


This Is Home

by spacebanes



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Adam is still the antichrist, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Aziraphale is soft but confused, Brotp, Crowley and Anathema Device are Friends (Good Omens), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, Softie Crowley (Good Omens), Triwizard Tournament, crowley is soft for children, mostly adam though, seriously a lot of pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-06-28 17:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 46,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19816846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebanes/pseuds/spacebanes
Summary: Crowley's last year at Hogwarts is sure to be an eventful one, what with the Triwizard Tournament and everything. Throw in an unidentifiable antichrist, six years worth of built up feelings for his best friend, violent amounts of internalized homophobia, and getting chosen as the Hogwarts champion, and he'll be lucky if he survives, let alone passes his exams.





	1. Adam

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to point out any spelling or grammatical errors that you find :)

The train ride, Crowley decided, was by far the most boring part of the trip back to Hogwarts. Lots of students seemed to find joy in it, enjoying every second they were on the train. Crowley couldn't see the point of all the excitement, if he were being completely honest. Riding by yourself in a train compartment because your one and only friend had yet to show his face wasn't completely ideal, he would admit. If he could drive himself to Hogwarts, oh, well that would be a different story entirely. He would enjoy that immensely. As it were, however, he couldn't do that, and instead resigned himself to a pointless day of doing absolutely nothing as they journeyed to the school. 

That resignation, however, was interrupted within an hour, the door to his compartment sliding open and closed in seconds. Crowley was expecting Aziraphale, maybe Hastur or Ligur even, though he wouldn't be happy to see either of the latter. Instead a boy Crowley had never seen before stepped in, trunk clasped tight in his hand and his head held high. He looked at Crowley with a steely determination, but there was fear behind it. He must have been a first year, Crowley thought. He had seen the same look on his own face when he looked in the mirror all those years ago on his own first day. 

"Sorry to bother you," the boy said, his hand flexing slightly on the handle of his trunk. "But the boys in the compartment I was sitting in before were being really mean to me, so I was wondering if I could sit here. It's alright if you say no, but it would make me rather sad." 

The kid had guts, Crowley would give him that. And Crowley was bored, and letting a kid who was being made fun of switch to his compartment was no burden to him, not really. It seemed as though Aziraphale was never going to show, probably far too busy with his other friends, so he really didn't see any downsides. 

"Alright," Crowley nodded his head towards the empty seats across from him. "Make yourself at home." 

The boy grinned, practically throwing himself down on the seat opposite him. He placed his trunk down on the bench between himself and Crowley's legs, which were stretched out in front of him and propped up on the seat. 

"I'm Adam. Adam Young." He said, sitting forward in his seat and extending his hand for Crowley to shake. 

It was very clearly a gesture that was learned from parents, a way to make your child more polite, but it was endearing in a strange way. Then again, all children seemed to have that effect on Crowley. He loved them, a soft spot in his heart opening up to every young person he met. It seems Adam would be no different. 

Crowley smiled at the kid. He took one hand off of his cat, Bently, who was curled up in his lap and made a rather annoyed noise when he stopped petting her momentarily, and reached out to shake Adams. "Anthony Crowley. Everyone just calls me Crowley though." 

Adams eyes widened as he shook Crowley's hand, a large grin taking over his face. "You're like, a quidditch legend!" 

Crowley huffed, his cheeks getting a little red, and dropped Adam's hand. "I don't think I'm good enough to be called a legend." 

"Are you kidding?" Adam gasped, bouncing in his seat a little. Crowley tried really hard not to smile. "I heard that you're one of the greatest players Hogwarts has ever had!" 

"Oh, yeah?" Crowley mused, going back to petting Bently, who purred in appreciation. "Who did you hear that from?" 

"My parents." Adam said, not a hint of hesitation in his voice. Crowley was growing to like him more and more with each passing second. 

"Your parents wizards too?" Crowley asked. He wasn't really all that interested in people's families, but it was an easy way to talk with someone so much younger than himself. It still felt a bit odd though, what with the history his parents had. He half expected Adam to tense up or freak out as many others had when he'd asked the question before, but that wasn't the case. It seemed as the the only thing he knew about Crowley was his quidditch skill, nothing else. Crowley wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Adam nodded. "Yeah. They were hufflepuffs, both of them. Think I'm gonna end up in hufflepuff too." He sounded a little bitter as he said the last part. 

Crowley's interest was officially piqued. "You don't think you'll end up in hufflepuff?" 

"No," Adam said, a little quieter than he'd said anything else since he'd arrived. "I think I may be in slytherin." 

"Hey, I'll have you know that I'm a slytherin." Crowley defended. 

"I wouldn't mind being a slytherin," Adam said. "I think I might prefer it." 

"Both houses are good in their own ways." Crowley shrugged. 

He didn't much care for hufflepuff as a whole, but he felt the need to defend Aziraphale's house, even if it was just a little bit. The boy would never even know he'd done it, but Crowley would know, so he did it. Hastur would make fun of him for that, no doubt about it. He'd say Crowley had gone soft. He hadn't, as it were, gone soft. He just appreciated Aziraphale and his friendship with someone who wasn't a blood elitist. Adam didn't need to know all that though.

"Did you hear that the triwizard tournament is happening at Hogwarts again this year?" Adam asked, excitement clear in his voice. 

Crowley had, in fact, heard it a good hundred times from Aziraphale when it had been announced. He'd always found the tournament interesting, if not a little too violent for his taste. Crowley found it absolutely fantastic. He was old enough to throw his own name in this time, and he was getting more and more tempted to the more it was brought up. Best case scenario he won, and worst case scenario he died. Both seemed like perfectly good options to him. 

"Exciting, isn't it?" Crowley asked. 

Adam nodded. "Are you going to enter?" 

And the kid looked so hopeful, so excited at the idea, that Crowley couldn't find it in himself to say no. 

"Yeah, I think I am." 

The rest of the train ride passed in a similar fashion. Adam asked Crowley all sorts of questions, clearly interested in everything Crowley had to say, and in turn he shared some information himself. He wanted a dog but his parents wouldn't let him get one, so he planned on stealing one from the local animal shelter when he got back for summer break. He hated all of the things that were wrong in the world and wanted to fix global warming, all on his own. That plan had quickly shifted to accommodate Crowley, who was all for helping Adam save the whales and plant more trees around London. 

The lack of technology at Hogwarts had never stopped students from bringing phones, and Crowley was no exception, so he spent a large chunk of time playing music off of his. He introduced Adam to Queen and The Velvet Underground, getting laughed at by the kid as he bopped along to a couple of the songs. He couldn't find it in himself to care. For the first time in a long while, Crowley genuinely found himself having fun. Retelling stories of all he'd gotten up to at Hogwarts for the first six years and all of the best ways to sneak out of the castle. Even as he sent Adam off to change into his robes and took a moment to think, about how this would be the last time he'd ever ride the train to Hogwarts, or about how Aziraphale had never shown up despite saying that he would, he couldn't find it in himself to be sad or bitter. That was rather new for him, but it wasn't unwelcome. Not in the slightest. 

Adam look slightly more anxious when he stepped back into the compartment, now in his robes, but he did a good job of hiding it. He sat back down on the bench and scratched behind Bentley's ears. She had moved over to curl up on the seat beside him instead of Crowley's lap about half way through the journey. 

"What's up kid?" Crowley asked, swinging his legs down from where they were laying across his own bench and giving his full attention to Adam. 

He looked at Crowley hesitantly for a minute, clearly unsure if he should say anything, before he eventually sighed. "It's just, what if I do get sorted into slytherin, and my parents get mad at me? I don't want them to be mad because I didn't end up in hufflepuff." 

Crowley could sympathize with that. He'd kept himself awake for a week imagining what his parents would do if he wasn't sorted into gryffindor like they had been, how mad they'd be. He found out easily enough when he was, inevitably, sorted into slytherin and had gotten a howler from his father shaming him for it. The sympathetic letter from his mother he'd received the next day did little to dull the sting. He'd never forget how awful that felt, and the thought of something like it happening to Adam as well made him feel slightly nauseous. But from the way Adam talked about his parents they seemed like lovely people, nothing at all like Crowley's father was, and them getting mad over which house their child was sorted into made no real sense to Crowley when compared to the information he had. 

"Your parents won't care no matter what, I can tell you that. And on the off chance that they do, I'll beat them up for you." Crowley told him, staying completely serious the whole time.

Adam cracked a smile, making the whole threat worth it for Crowley. "What if I'm not in slytherin either though? what if I end up in ravenclaw, or gryffindor?" 

"Then that's where you belong, nothing you can do about it," Crowley shrugged. He leaned a little forward in his seat, a small smile taking over his face. "And hey, if you do end up in slytherin, I'll save you a seat at the table." 

Adam's grin was bright enough to light up the compartment. The pair continued to talk as the train pulled up, and Crowley felt a little bit guilty about having to leave Adam once they got off, but he promised he'd find him later, even if he didn't end up in slytherin. Adam had given him a rather hard high five for an eleven year old and then torn off down the path towards the gathering of first years, almost forgetting his trunk in the process. Crowley couldn't help but smile as he watched him. 

Aziraphale was still nowhere to be found as they boarded the carriages set to take them to Hogwarts, nor once they walked into the great hall. It was a big school, and Aziraphale did have other friends, so Crowley shouldn't have been surprised, but he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that he hadn't seen him. He liked to consider Aziraphale his friend, his only one really, and despite knowing it was a sentiment that wasn't returned he stuck with it. The growing crush he had on his best friend had absolutely nothing to do with it, nothing at all, he told himself. Even he didn't believe it. 

The great hall looked the same as it did every year, which was a great comfort to Crowley as he dodged around people to get closer to the front of the table. He wanted a good view of the sorting, and he wanted to make sure Adam could see him. Having one friendly face in the crowd made it easier to sit up there. The smile Adam gave him when he spotted him amongst the group of terrified looking first years made the small struggle it took to get there worth it. The Headmistress, who's name nobody knew and who everyone instead referred to as The Almighty, stood up to make her speech and welcome everyone back. It was the same speech Crowley heard every year, but somehow she made it interesting enough that he didn't tune it out completely. She threw in a comment about the triwizard tournament that got a lot of loud cheers from the crowd of students gathered. 

"And now," she announced in her usual tone, which was an odd mix of both dramatic and monotone that shouldn't have physically worked. "For the sorting!" Crowley tried not to be too sad at the fact that this would be the last time he ever heard that. 

It started with a kid called Brian, who was put into hufflepuff after about ten seconds of the hat sitting on his head. Crowley risked a glance over at the hufflepuff table, catching his first glimpse of Aziraphale so far as he scooted over to welcome the new kid to the table. 

"Moonchild, Pepper!" Crowley could have laughed at the name, but it felt a bit cruel considering his best friends name was Aziraphale and it was never something he had made fun of him for. The girl, Pepper, was sorted into gryffindor before the hat had hardly touched her head. 

Crowley could see Adam slowly getting more and more nervous as the group of students still waiting to be sorted declined. He couldn't imagine how it felt, having to wait so long to be called, as his name was rather close to the beginning of the alphabet. He did feel bad though, and he caught Adam's eye more than once and flashed him and encouraging smile. Soon enough it was just Adam and one other kid waiting. Crowley secretly hoped Adam would be called first, just to save him the nervousness, but that wasn't the case. 

"Wensleydale, Jeremy!" The other boy perked up and walked excitedly up to the sorting hat. It rested on his head for a while, at least thirty seconds, before loudly proclaiming him a ravenclaw. That just left Adam. 

"Young, Adam!" 

Adam shot a glance in Crowley's direction, and he gave him a small thumbs up before he approached the hat. It seemed to reassure him, at least a little bit, and he sat down and let the hat be placed on his head. The hall was silent, as it usually was with the last sorting, and it stayed that way for a full minute. A minute and a half. The hat was clearly taking its time with deciding where to put Adam. This was the longest Crowley had ever seen it take. Adam looked just as anxious, his eyes flitting back and forth across the room in mild, well hidden panic. It was silent for nearly two minutes before the hat finally made its decision. 

"Slytherin!"

The room erupted into cheers and claps, though less than there were when kids were sorted into the other houses. The strong prejudice against slytherins still remained, no matter how much time had passed since the war. It didn't bother Crowley this time, not like it usually did, and he clapped louder than anyone else. Adam was beaming when he reached the table, plopping himself down next to Crowley on the bench. Crowley tossed an arm over his shoulders, pulling him to his side and ruffling his hair. He supposed most of the new students thought they were brothers, though the others knew better, especially the other slytherins. They gave the pair nervous looks, clearly uneasy with the thought of there being someone else who would turn out like Crowley. He wasn't the only child of a death eater still at the school, but his parents had been the most well known out of any of those that survived long enough to have children. There was clear worry that Adam would also turn out to be the devil incarnate on many peoples faces. Neither boy cared. 

Crowley looked up again, catching Aziraphale's eye from all the way across the room. His smile fell a bit. Adam pulled away from his side and held out his hand, giving Crowley a high five that was even harder than the one he'd given him earlier. Crowley was snapped out of any and all bitter thoughts he was having towards Aziraphale by the resounding slap sound, and he tossed his arm around Adam again. It was going to be an interesting year, especially if he had Adam to look after.


	2. The Sorting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other schools have arrived, and Crowley has to sit through another sorting ceremony for their students. It's all made a lot more interesting, however, by the arrival of one Anathema Device.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to point out any spelling or grammatical errors that you find :)

To say the relationship Crowley had with Aziraphale was complicated would probably be the biggest understatement made in the six years they'd known each other. Aziraphale was, for lack of a better description, Crowley's best and only friend. On the other hand, however, Crowley was quite sure that Aziraphale genuinely hated him and only spent time with him out of moral obligation. Because that's who he was. He was kind, especially to people like Crowley who nobody wanted anything to do with. Crowley tried to distance himself from Aziraphael, to make it so that he didn't have to put up with him as much, but he really did like him. He was nice and he made him laugh and he helped him with his work when he didn't understand it. The massive crush he had on the boy might have also been a large part of his inability to spend time away from him, but that was for Crowley and Crowley alone to know and spend several hours a night agonizing over in the silence of his room. 

Their uneasy friendship started in their first year. Crowley had been the only student who knew what he was doing in herbology, the only class he'd ever excelled in, and Aziraphale, desperate to get top marks in all of his classes, had grabbed Crowley as his partner as fast as physically possible for their first project. The two had been inseparable ever since, unless Aziraphale deemed he should spend more time with his other friends. It was reasonable, it really was. He didn't own Aziraphale, and he certainly wasn't his only friend. He had plenty of other friends, and Crowley was sure Aziraphale thought he had other friends. Because Crowley wouldn't be caught dead sitting by himself more than two days in a row. He tended to drift towards two of the other slytherin boys, Hastur and Ligur, who his parents had made him talk to at the train station on his first ever day of Hogwarts because they went to school with their parents. By went to school with, Crowley assumed they meant committed unspeakable crimes against wizarding society as a whole together. The two were easily interchangeable phrases.

People didn't like Crowley for exactly two reasons. The first was his horrible personality, which was a self explanatory reason. The second was that everyone thought he was a pure blood dickhead who thought all muggle borns should die. His father was a death eater, though he never received any punishment for it, and his peers all expected him to be much the same. He wasn't, at all, but they didn't believe that. Crowley never wanted to end up like his father, had never disagreed with anything more than what he stood for. His best friend was a muggle born after all, though Aziraphale tried not to mention his blood status to people much due to prejudice. It wasn't like people really expected Aziraphale to be a muggle born considering the only people he hung around were pure bloods like Crowley or his other friends.

Aziraphale has been the only person to really accept Crowley during his first year. It was so soon after the war, after all, and everyone had heard about Asmodeus Crowley and all of the awful things he'd done. His mother Lilith left him during his second year and took Crowley with her, but it hadn't helped much. Aziraphale never judged him though, never assumed he'd turn out just like his father, and it made Crowley feel accepted. That wasn't something he was used to, and it was a welcome change. It made it easy, he realized when he thought about it, to fall in love with the hufflepuff. Six years of pining was what followed, but Crowley couldn't complain. Not when it was Aziraphale. 

"Do you really want to be here to see this?" Aziraphale asked, leaning a little against the railing they were standing next to. 

"Yes," Crowley hissed, though there was no real annoyance behind it. "It's exciting."

"I've read about it." Aziraphale said, because of course he'd read about it. He'd read about everything.

"Of course you have, angel." Crowley rolled his eyes, but the gesture was lost behind his sunglasses. 

The pair were waiting with the rest of the school for the other two schools to arrive for the triwizard tournament. They were arriving strangely early this time, school only having been in session for three days, but Aziraphale had theorized that it was to disrupt as little of their schooling as possible. It was a solid theory, and it made sense, but Crowley would never tell him that. Crowley had been wanting to see it for years, but he'd never had the chance before. Now he did, and he wasn't planning on letting Aziraphale ruin that for him. He wasn't there just for himself though. 

"Crowley!" 

Said boy turned around, a bright smile on his face as Adam pushed through the crowd of students. Crowley had told him where to meet him, knowing after seven years where they'd get the best view. Aziraphale shot him a questioning and slightly concerned look, and it only made the whole situation more exciting. 

"Adam!" He called back, accepting the hard high five the boy gave him as he reached them. It made a sharp noise, both of their palms going pink, and it only served to make Crowley grin wider.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale asked. "Who's this?" 

The question came out laced with poorly concealed concern, his face as he asked him doing nothing to hide it. He thought Crowley was a bad influence on children. He'd told him as much during their fifth year. They had been walking to their first class after lunch when a first year gryffindor girl had asked them for directions to her classroom. Crowley had told her the usual route, and then he'd smiled and told her a secret, quicker route that the teachers didn't know about. Aziraphale had scolded him for it the entire rest of the way to class. It was clear to Crowley that he was greatly concerned about a child who was already so familiar with him. 

"My name is Adam!" He announced, holding out his hand for him to shake. 

"We met on the train when you didn't show up." Crowley informed him as the two shook hands, shooting a pointed glare at him that was recognizable even behind his sunglasses. 

Aziraphale had enough decency to look guilty, at the very least. "Sorry about that my dear boy," he said as he let go of Adam's hand. "But Michael absolutely insisted I sit with them instead."

It was no secret to Crowley that Aziraphale's other friends absolutely hated him, much like they did with anyone in slytherin, but Michael seemed most like he wanted his head on a stick. He didn't know if it came more from his parents, his house, or the fact that half of their school including Michael was ridiculously homophobic and Crowley gave off a very gay energy, or so he'd been told. It wasn't outright homophobia being thrown towards him, because nobody knew he was gay, and if things all went according to plan nobody ever would. It was just a general violent distaste towards his love of pet names and tight jeans.

Adam wrinkled his nose up. "Who's Michael?" 

Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak but Crowley cut him off. "Nobody important." 

Aziraphale gasped, and it was the most dramatic noise Crowley had ever heard him make. "He's head boy, Crowley, you can't just say-" 

"Look!" Adam shouted, scrambling over to the railing and pointing at the sky. 

Crowley stepped up next to him and watched as a carriage for some prestigious French school he couldn't pronounce nor wanted to broke through the clouds. It was still relatively far away but Crowley could feel the excitement stirring in his chest. Adam put his hands on the railing, standing on his toes to see better, and Crowley had an idea. 

"Hey," he said, turning to Adam and catching his attention. He caught Aziraphales too, but that wasn't what he was aiming for so he paid it no mind. "Try this." 

Adam watched him carefully as he held onto one of the pillars, swinging his leg over the railing to sit on it. He swung his other leg over as well and Adam scrambled to follow him, pushing himself up with all of the strength his eleven year old body could muster. 

"Crowley, this is a horrible idea!" Aziraphale said, moving closer to the railing as if he were going to try and pull Adam down himself. He might have been, Crowley was never sure with him. He felt as though his impulsiveness alone should have landed him in gryffindor some days.

Crowley ignored him. "Okay, and now stand up," Adam looked at him like he was crazy, but Crowley just smiled. "Trust me. Stand up and hold onto my shoulder." 

Adam did as he said, albeit a little hesitantly, and dug his fingers into the fabric of Crowley's robes. He got his balance for a second before he turned back to Crowley and smiled, loosening his grip on his robes. Adam trusted Crowley more than was probably a good idea, but he was willing to put in the work to keep that trust. He was the first person Crowley had met that seemed to like him with no agenda behind it. He couldn't even say that much about Aziraphale, as badly as that stung. He'd heard the hufflepuff talking to his friends multiple times about how he was trying to steer Crowley down the right path and away from evil by spending so much time with him. He'd spent what was likely close to three hours crying after the first time he'd heard that, though he'd never admit it to anyone. 

"He's going to fall." Aziraphale hissed, coming up beside him and leaning in to whisper in his ear. Crowley put all of his effort into not shivering. 

"If he does I'll catch him," Crowley hissed back. "Really angel, just trust me for once." It came out with more force than he wanted it to, and if Crowley had had even a tiny bit less pride he would have taken it back. As it were, however, he was stubborn and refused to do so. It got the job done anyway.

Aziraphale looked a little startled, maybe even a little hurt, though that was probably just a trick of the light Crowley reasoned, and he backed off, bracing his arms on the railing next to Crowley and watching with them as the other schools arrived. Adam was in awe the entire time. Crowley was too, but his came with a lot more quiet exclamations of 'wow' and 'that's so cool' than the younger boys did. His excitement lasted until the feast that night when they welcomed all of the new students.

"They're planning on sorting the students from other schools, did you know that?" Aziraphale asked, grinning excitedly at Crowley as they ate. He wasn't technically supposed to be sitting at the slytherin table that night, but nobody had really wanted to stop him. He wanted to get to know Adam more, he told Crowley, make sure he wasn't being influenced purely by him and his reckless behavior. It was another one of his mindless comments Crowley had to pretend didn't hurt.

"Are they?" Adam asked, looking up at Crowley. 

Crowley shrugged, pushing his glasses up a bit. "I guess so." 

Aziraphale looked as though he were going to make another comment, but the Almighty stood up from the long table the professors ate at and the room went deathly silent.

"Welcome, students, to a very exciting occasion. As I'm sure you're all well aware by now, the triwizard tournament is being held at Hogwarts this year," the room erupted into cheers from all three schools and she let it go on for a moment before holding out a hand to signal silence. The noise stopped almost immediately. Everyone listed to the headmistress, though for the life of him Crowley couldn't figure out why. "We are joined this year by students from Ilvermorny and Beauxbatons."

There were large amounts of cheering and whooping from the schools named. Crowley tried to remember how to pronounce the name of the stupid French school, but the information seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Hogwarts had to beat them, he decided, regardless of who their champions were. He didn't know what he'd end up doing if they didn't. The Almighty let the noise go on for longer this time, but once again it stopped almost instantly when she signaled that she wanted silence. 

"To make the transition easier on students we've decided that it would be best if this year we sorted the students from other schools into one of our respective houses," the smile Aziraphale gave Crowley at that was disgustingly smug. "This will make it easier for students from visiting schools to attend classes, and of course will allow them to earn points for their houses. We shall start with the students from Beauxbatons. You will be called up alphabetically by last name. Please sit on the stool and allow the sorting hat to choose your houses for you, then make your way to the respective house table after the decision has been made."

There was only about ten, maybe fifteen, students from each school, and Crowley paid no attention during the sorting of those from the obnoxious french school purely out of spite due to their name he couldn't pronounce. Aziraphale and Adam both did though, and they cheered when students were sorted into their respective houses. It was endearing, in a strange way, to see them getting along so well. The boy he'd been helplessly in love with for the past six years and the kid he'd just met but was already ridiculously attached to. Watching them together made his stomach do weird flips that he didn't much appreciate.

"And now the students from Ilvermorny." The Almighty announced. Crowley say up a little straighter. These ones he cared about.

"Device, Anathema." 

A girl who looked to be in her fifth, maybe sixth, year walked over to the hat, a determined glint in her eyes that Crowley could see even from so far away. She sat down and let the hat be placed on her head. It sat for a while, and Crowley could see her growing slightly anxious. The expression looked unnatural on her face, clearly one she didn't wear often. Finally, after almost a full minute, the hat made a decision. 

"Slytherin!" 

The Hogwarts students cheered, though not as loudly as they would for other houses. Anathema grinned, clearly okay with the hats decision, and walked over to the slytherin table with purpose. She ended up sitting down beside Aziraphale, right across from Crowley, and she smiled at the three of them. She stalled a little when she looked over at Aziraphale. 

"You're not in the slytherin uniform." She said. It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Crowley liked her for that. 

"I'm a hufflepuff," Aziraphale explained, nodding in the direction of his table. "I just like to sit with my friends." 

Anathema nodded like it made perfect sense and the four of them turned their attention back to the sorting. Crowley tried to ignore the way his heart squeezed at the word friends.

"Dowling, Warlock!" 

Crowley snorted, shoving his face into his hands when Aziraphale shot him a glare. "Warlock?" He asked as the boy walked over to the hat. He was clearly a first year who thought he was more important than he was. "Who names their wizard child Warlock?" 

"The Dowlings, apparently." Anathema chipped in, a little smirk on her own face. She clearly found it just as amusing as Crowley, she was just better at hiding it.

"Did they want their child to get bullied?" Crowley laughed. The hat was placed down on the boys head. "Because I'm gonna bully their child." 

Aziraphale reached over the table to smack him on the back of the head as the hat called out "Slytherin!" 

Crowley groaned a little in frustration and the other three laughed at him. 

"Karma." Adam said, poking him in the ribs, and Crowley tried to push him off the bench.

"Hill, Gabriel!"

"Oh God, not Gabriel." Anathema groaned, sinking further down into her seat.

"Who's Gabriel?" Adam asked. He asked a lot of questions. 

"He's an asshat." She groaned more. The hat declared Gabriel a gryffindor and Anathema could not have looked happier to see him placed in a different house than her.

Aziraphale gasped. "Language, young lady! There are children present." He said, shooting a pointed look in Adam's direction. 

Adam stared at Aziraphale across the table, holding direct eye contact with him as he spoke. "Fuck." He said, and Crowley laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his seat when he saw the look on the hufflepuffs face. 

Anathema didn't seem to be doing much better, her head buried in her arms and her shoulder shaking violently as she laughed. Adam himself was laughing rather maniacally, leaning on Crowley slightly for support, though it wasn't doing him much good. Other students at the table were giving them odd looks, especially those from the other schools, and Aziraphale looked around anxiously as the three of them continued to laugh. None of them cared, especially not Crowley, who was used to getting looks from the other students. He lifted the edge of his robes up to wipe at his eyes under his sunglasses as they tried to calm down. Three more students were sorted in the time it took them to stop laughing. Crowley turned his head, looking at one of the boys sitting next to him. He was staring at him with such undisguised confusion that it almost set him off laughing again. He gave the boy his widest grin and he turned away quickly.

"I like you," Anathema declared, looking around at the boys. "All three of you. I think you're going to make this trip more bearable than I thought it would be."

Crowley pressed a hand to his chest over his heart. "I'm honoured." 

"Were you not looking forward to the tournament?" Aziraphale asked.

Leave it to him to ask questions about what people said, Crowley thought. It was so like him that it was almost funny. He really could have been a ravenclaw with how curious he was, but he was a hufflepuff through and through. Crowley could write an essay on how well he fit into his house if asked, but he never would be and that was a late night thought he was never going to share with anyone.

"I'm not here for the tournament," Anathema said. She leaned her forearms on the table, pushing her robes out of the way as she leaned forward slightly. "It's just an added bonus. I'm looking for the antichrist." 

She said it so seriously and with such a no nonsense air about her that Crowley felt he had to believe her, no matter how absurd a statement it was.

"The antichrist?" Adam asked, his eyes shining bright with curiosity. 

"Maybe I'll tell you later, once I know more." Anathema said, and that was the end of that. Crowley knew they wouldn't be getting any more out of her, and clearly the other two did too, no matter how much Aziraphale looked like he wanted to ask more questions.

The Almighty got up to talk again. Crowley realized they'd been talking through the rest of the sorting, though he couldn't find it in himself to care. Even the applause hadn't ended their conversation. It was too interesting for that. 

"Now," she said, and the hall went silent. "The Goblet of Fire will choose one champion from each school. Any student over the age of sixteen is welcome to put their name in, but be warned. This tournament is no joke. The champions will be running the risk of extreme danger in all three challenges they enter into. The age restriction is there for your safety, so please, don't try to trick the magic surrounding the cup. I'll know if you do, and the house points you'll lose alone will fill you with regret."

"If this had happened two months later I would have been able to put my name in." Anathema grumbled. 

"This year will be exciting for everyone, but it is still expected that all of you, including our champions, stay on top of school work. The tournament is not to be used as an excuse for falling behind. I'm sure you're all extremely excited for the tournament, and the champions will be announced at the Halloween feast. You have until then to put your name in the goblet. Hogwarts students, please be accommodating to our visitors. Help them out if they need it, don't let them get lost. You all know how confusing the castle can be. I look forward to seeing you all for the rest of the year. With that, I bid you goodnight." 

Students started to get out of their seats, talking animatedly amongst one another. Crowley could spot multiple of the students from other schools mingling among them, their differing uniforms making them stand out in the crowds. Anathema, for her part, stuck to the three of them, following them out of the great hall. 

"I need to head back to my own house now I'm afraid," Aziraphale said, smiling apologetically at them. "It was lovely to meet you, Anathema. I hope to see more of you throughout the year." And with that he was gone. 

"He's certainly different, isn't he?" Anathema mused, watching Aziraphale as he retreated into the crowds. 

"He really is." Crowley said, more to himself than in response to her. His voice was a touch more fond than he would have liked it to be, and Anathema noticed. She raised an eyebrow at him, a curious look on her face, but she didn't say anything about it. Adam, bless him, remained completely oblivious.

"Care to show me where we're supposed to go?" Anathema asked Crowley instead, practically sticking herself to his side so as not to lose him in the flow of people. 

"Why of course," Crowley grinned, holding out his arm toward her in an overly dramatic gesture. "Shall we?" 

Anathema laughed and rolled her eyes but looped her arm through his anyway, letting him guide her through the hallways. The trio stuck together, laughing and joking all the way back to the common room, all thoughts of triwizard tournaments and antichrists banished from their heads for the time being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Aziraphale is a little bit of a dick at this point but I promise it'll make sense later on. For now just enjoy the Crowley/Adam/Anathema fluff before we get to the ineffable husbands.


	3. Asmodeus Crowley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley had never hated anyone more than his dad, he just wished that other people could see that and that he would stop making his life a living hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to point out any spelling or grammatical errors that you find :) 
> 
> *TW: implied/referenced abuse, homophobic language*

Breakfast in the great hall was quickly becoming Crowley's favourite time of day. He'd been to three, and was sitting through his fourth, so far this year, but they were all rather enjoyable. They had Adam at them, after all. 

"Can you believe," Crowley huffed rather angrily as he stuffed a piece of toast in his mouth. "That it's my last year at Hogwarts and I won't get to play Quidditch?" 

The Quidditch cup has been canceled in favour of the triwizard tournament, which was taking up all of the time and resources that would usually be put towards Quidditch. As Quidditch and herbology were the only two things he had ever enjoyed about school, he was rather upset to see one of them go, especially when he wouldn't have another chance to play the next year. It was understandable, he thought.

Adam also looked rather put out about it and nodded furiously. "I really wanted to see you play." 

Crowley frowned a little apologetically. "I know, kid. But hey, how about I take you out to the pitch some time after you start flying lessons and teach you some tricks?" 

"Really?" Adam asked, his face lit up with excitement.

He nodded, taking another bite. "Course." 

Adam grinned brightly, leaning over and wrapping his arms around Crowley. It startled him enough that he dropped his toast. Crowley froze for a second before wrapping his own arms around the boys shoulders, albeit a little awkwardly. He wasn't very used to hugs, as it was. 

"What are we hugging about?" Anathema asked, dropping a large, old book on the table when she approached. 

"Crowley is gonna show me some Quidditch moves!" Adam said excitedly, pulling himself away from Crowley but staying close to his side. 

Crowley, who still had an arm wrapped around Adam's shoulder and no plans of removing it picked up his discarded piece of toast. He took a bite and gestured widely to the girl. "What's in the book?" 

"It's a book of ancient family prophecies," Anathema explained, looking between Adam and Crowley expectantly. "It's called The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of-" 

"Agnes Nutter. Yes, I've heard of it," Aziraphale finished for her, sitting down to the right of her and directly across from Crowley. "I wouldn't expect anything from Crowley, though. I'm not sure he even knows how to read." 

It was a very clear joke and Crowley forced himself to laugh along with the other three, ignoring the small twinge of pain in his chest. 

"Well, I've got some questions, and I was hoping you guys could answer them for me." Anathema said. 

Crowley nodded and shoved the rest of his toast into his mouth. "Sure." 

Anathema flipped open the book, skimming through a couple of pages before landing on a specific prophecy. "So the four houses, what are they? Just confirm for me, please." 

"Slytherin, gryffindor, ravenclaw, hufflepuff," Crowley said, reaching across to Adam's plate and snatching a tater tot off of it, winking at the boy as he popped it into his mouth. "That was easy, next question." 

"The house points," Anathema said, tapping her finger a couple of times on the paper. "What exactly are they for? The headmistress never really said." 

"The house cup!" Adam said excitedly, though he offered no further explanation. 

"It's a friendly inter house competition," Aziraphale said, filling in the blanks. "Students earn and lose house points based on things that they do and at the end of the year the house with the most points wins the house cup." 

"Who won last year?" 

"Hufflepuff." Aziraphale said, puffing out his chest slightly with pride. Crowley rolled his eyes, though nobody could see it behind his glasses. 

Anathema shook her head. "That's not what this is referring to then." 

"What does it say?" Crowley asked, leaning over to get a better view.

"The house of the snake and its champion player shall go another round. Beware of the points he collects." Anathema read off. 

"That could be about you!" Adam said, turning to look at Crowley. 

"Me?" Crowley asked, pointing to himself as he said it. 

"That's right," Anathema said, smiling a little bit more at him. "You play Quidditch, don't you?" 

"Best seeker the school has ever had!" Adam said proudly, grinning up at Crowley. Crowley rolled his eyes and ruffled the boys hair, flushing lightly though no one could see it.

"Well, we did have Harry Potter." Aziraphale argued, and Adam glared at him. 

"Yeah, and Crowley is better." He defended. Aziraphale shook his head fondly but he stopped talking.

"Can I ask you some personal questions?" Anathema asked him, looking Crowley dead in the eye through his sunglasses. "I think we might be getting somewhere."

"Yeah, don't see why not." He said, although he felt a little pressure from the intensity of her stare.

She got straight to business, staring at him intently as she spoke. "Okay, so your dad is a death eater, right?"

Adam pulled away from where he was still pressed against Crowley's side, looking up at him with wide eyes. Aziraphale turned his eyes away. A very uncomfortable silence situated itself over the table. 

"Yes." Crowley said simply. He dug his nails into the palm of his hand to keep from saying anything more. 

"Sorry," Anathema said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "I didn't realize it was a touchy subject." 

Crowley opened his mouth to say it was okay but Aziraphale beat him to it. "Oh, it isn't. Crowley is just like his father, right my dear?" 

"Shut the fuck up." Crowley hissed, slamming his hand on the table as he stood up. 

Multiple other students at the table jumped in surprise, the room quieting quickly with his outburst. Crowley didn't care. He swiped his bag from the ground and took off from the great hall, not looking back even as Adam and Anathema called after him. He should have expected this to happen at some point, he really should have, but he didn't. He never did. Call him naive, but he every time he expected Aziraphale to have changed. He expected the comments to stop. But they didn't, because that was how Aziraphale felt. As kind and understanding as he was, he still believed Crowley to be just like his father. He just never usually said it to his face. 

His eyes burned as he walked to his first class, hands stuffed furiously into his pockets, and he willed himself not to cry. He couldn't, he wouldn't. Aziraphale's comment wouldn't get to him, he wouldn't let it. It was the same things he heard from his other classmates anyways, who cares if it came from Aziraphale instead? The extra sting the comment left was unnecessary and useless. Breakfast was supposed to be going on for another twenty minutes, but Madame Tracy was always in her classroom early. She left the great hall once she was done eating every day, though she never did it impolitely. Surely she wouldn't mind Crowley being twenty minutes early to divination. 

"Crowley?" The woman asked as he entered the classroom, looking up from the papers she was leading through. 

"Hey." He said, throwing his bag down on the floor and collapsing into his usual chair.

"Is something wrong?" She asked, standing up and walking over to where he was sitting. She lowered herself into the chair across from him, gazing at him with worry filled eyes. 

Madame Tracy was the head of gryffindor house, though she seemed to love the students from all houses equally. She had a very strong open door policy that students found themselves having to take advantage of, her warm and motherly nature making it seem ridiculous not to speak to her. Crowley himself had considered talking to her about things on multiple occasions, Aziraphale had encouraged it, but he never went. He didn't want to burden her. She said she was willing to listen, but he didn't think she'd hold the same opinion once she heard what was going on in his head. Now though, now he felt like there was no one better to talk to.

"Madame Tracy," he said quietly, refusing to look her in the eye. He picked at the polish on his nails instead. "You taught me father, yeah?" 

He could vaguely see her nod out of the top of his vision. "I did, during his very last year at the school." 

"What was he like?" Crowley asked. 

"If I'm being honest," she said, sighing slightly. "He was horrible. Very rude and arrogant, thought he was better than everyone else, especially the muggle borns. Threw around slurs like they were acceptable language, even after the war ended. They never charged him for what he did during the war because he was just a child, but the stories I heard about that boy, the things he did. He was despicable, Crowley. Truly, deeply evil. He scared me, and that doesn't happen often."

The last comment wasn't cocky like it would sound coming from anyone else. From Madame Tracy it just sounded honest. She didn't scare easily, it was a well known fact, and Crowley had always admired that about her. He figured she could be calm and understanding through just about any situation.

He laughed, though the sound was more or a humourless huff than anything else. "Yeah, sounds like him." 

"Why did you want to know?" Madame Tracy asked, though it wasn't in an unkind way. Crowley didn't think she was capable of being unkind. 

"Dunno," he shrugged, still refusing to look up at her. "Someone brought him up and I just, I got curious."

"I'm truly sorry that you had to grow up with someone like that, Crowley." She said, placing one of her hands over his on the table. 

"I hate it, you know," Crowley sniffled, reaching up to run at his burning eyes under this sunglasses. He couldn't cry. He refused. "That he's still out there. Still fully capable of hurting people." 

"It looks to me like he's hurt you more than anyone else." Madame Tracy observed. 

He huffed out another laugh and wiped at his nose. "I hate him." 

"You have every right to." She said, patting him on the hand. 

Students started to file into the room, their twenty minutes coming to a close already, and Crowley found himself wishing for just five more minutes. Madame Tracy patted him on the hand one more time before pulling her own away, moving to stand up.

"Madame Tracy," Crowley said suddenly, stopping her in her tracks. She looked back st Crowley, who finally dared to look up at her. "Do you think I'm like him? My dad, I mean." He didn't know why he felt the need to clarify, but he did anyway.

"I don't think you could be any more different." She said softly, smiling kindly at him before standing up and heading back to her own desk. 

Crowley watched as the rest of the students came in, freezing a bit when he saw Aziraphale enter. He had forgotten, in his momentary sadness, that the slytherins shared this class with the hufflepuffs. Aziraphale was worrying his lip between his teeth as he looked around the room, eyes searching for Crowley. It was an unfairly attractive sight, he thought, and then mentally slapped himself a couple times to get rid of it. He would have done it physically as well, but he wasn't willing to endure the strange looks that would get him. Aziraphale lit up a bit when he spotted Crowley, hurrying across the room to join him. 

"Crowley," he huffed as he sat down in the chair beside him. Crowley crossed his arms and fixed his eyes on the table. "You can't just run off like that, you know. Adam was worried." 

That made him feel a little guilty. Adam deserved an explanation, deserved to know that Crowley wasn't like his dad, he wasn't what Aziraphale said he was. Because Aziraphale had said that was who he was, and it was likely what Adam believed. His bitterness towards the boy sitting next to him returned. If Aziraphale had ruined the relationship Crowley had with Adam he was going to kill him, no questions asked.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale asked when he didn't look up. Crowley heard him sigh and felt his hand on his shoulder. He almost flinched, but he stopped himself. "I'm sorry, Anthony." The use of his first name almost made Crowley scream.

"Sorry?" Crowley asked, the sound coming out as more of a bitter laugh than anything else. He turned his head to look at him, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. Did he really think saying sorry would make it all better? 

Aziraphale nodded a little. "For whatever I said that upset you. I didn't mean to." 

"You don't even know what you're apologizing for." Crowley huffed under his breath, shaking his head and laughing slightly. Typical. 

"Pardon?" Aziraphale said. 

Crowley shook his head and sighed again before looking up, forcing a smile in Aziraphale's direction. "Nothing. It's okay, angel. I forgive you." 

Aziraphale smiled, breathing out a sigh of, presumably, relief, and as much as he didn't want to Crowley found himself genuinely forgiving him, just a little. He was impossible to stay mad at and Crowley hated him for it. That didn't mean he had fully forgiven him, though, and if he ignored him for the rest of the class with the excuse of being tired, well, he was allowed to be petty sometimes. 

"Crowley!" Madame Tracy called out as students started to file out of the classroom. Several heads turned, including Crowley and Aziraphales. "Could you stay back a moment?" 

"Uh yeah, sure." Crowley said, pulling his bag higher up on his shoulder. 

"Is everything alright?" Aziraphale asked, leaning closer to him so he could speak quieter. 

"Yeah, yeah everything's fine," Crowley assured him. "Have fun in potions. I'll see you at lunch." 

Aziraphale gave him one last uncertain look before following the rest of the students out of the room, leaving just Crowley and Madame Tracy. She smiled warmly at him and gestured to the chair at the other side of her desk. Crowley walked over, dropping his bag and plopping down in the chair. Usually when teachers asked him to stay back after class it was because of his horrible tendency to fail at everything he ever attempted to do, but that clearly wasn't why Madame Tracy had wanted to talk to him. He was starting to regret asking her about his father. 

"What's up?" He asked, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair, trying to pretend he wasn't as nervous as he really was. 

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," she said kindly. "You seemed a little upset earlier." 

Crowley nodded. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just had a morning, that's all." 

"Alright, if you're sure," She smiled and nodded. "What class do you have next?" 

"Care of magical creatures." He said. 

Madame Tracy nodded again and grabbed a piece of parchment. "I'll write you a note explaining why you're late. Give it to Professor Shadwell when you get there." 

"Thanks Madame Tracy." Crowley said, taking the offered paper from her and standing up, scooping up his bag on the way. 

"You know my door is always open if you need to talk, alright?" She said, ducking her head a little to make eye contact with him. 

He nodded. "Yeah. Thanks." 

"Any time." She smiled, and Crowley left the room as fast as he could. 

Professor Shadwell, of course, was not happy with Crowley when he showed up ten minutes late. It was a rather long walk between classes, after all, and he'd taken a couple minutes to compose himself in the hallway before he started off towards his class. By compose he meant scream into his hands for five minutes in thirty second intervals, but compose was shorter. Shadwell had always had a soft spot for Madame Tracy though, and just grumbled about kids and their being late to class after Crowley gave him the note. No part of him really wanted to sit through the class, but his grades were important, especially since it was his last year. He didn't need another lecture from Aziraphale about how important it was that he passed. 

Shadwell gave them their assignment for the day, feeding some insect Crowley had never heard of and didn't care about at all, and told them to get into groups rather late into the class. He spent nearly half the class telling them an unfairly large amount of information on these stupid insects that Crowley really wasn't in the mood to write down. He could just steal Aziraphale's notes to copy later, after all. It was the usual strategy. Crowley was in the process of approaching one of the ravenclaw girls in the class, Hazel, who he knew was good at herbology from the time they had it together fifth year, when he felt someone grab him by the shoulder. 

"Crawly!" It was Hastur. Crowley put all of his effort into resisting the urge to turn around and punch him then and there. 

"It's Crowley." He corrected, shaking off his hand. Hastur ignored him. 

"Hey, I heard you blew up at that Fell kid st breakfast this morning." He said, looking all too proud of himself for knowing such a fact. 

"Yeah," Ligur, who was ever present at Hastur's side, spoke up. "Real fright you gave him, apparently."

"Damn mudblood deserved it." Hastur laughed and yeah, that was enough. 

"Not that it's any of your business," Crowley said sharply. "But I didn't blow up at anyone. You should know by now that anything anyone at this school says is bullshit."

"Even you?" Ligur teased, though he looked a little out out from Crowley snapping at him.

"Yeah, even me," Crowley said, picking up a pail of food and slamming it into Ligur's chest. Some of it sloshed over the side and onto his robes. Crowley took the utter disgust on his face as a small victory. "Now get to work, unless you want all three of us to fail this class." 

It was a violently hyperbolic statement, but it got them moving, the subject dropped almost immediately. As dumb as they were, both boys had parents who would rip them apart should they fail an assignment, let alone a class. It was even more than Crowley got. At least his mom was understanding when it came to particular assignments, and if he graduated at all he would be doing better than she did considering she dropped out pregnant in her sixth year. It had been entirely his father's fault, a way of trapping her in a relationship she no longer wanted to be a part of, and a way to secure himself a valid reason to join the death eaters during the war. His excuse was that he had been a child, terrified for his girlfriend and their unborn child that Voldemort threatened to kill. It had gotten him off without any punishment and his mother was stuck with a child she didn't want. Him. 

No more words were exchanged between the three of them for the remainder of the class, though Hastur or Ligur often got looks like they were going to try and say something. One glare from Crowley shut them right up again, even with his sunglasses on. Lunch couldn't have come any slower, he thought, practically sprinting back to the castle at the sound of the bell. He just really, really wasted to stuff his face full of toast and cry. He was going to allow himself to do only one of those things, and whichever it was highly depended on what had been made for lunch that day. 

Anathema and Adam were both already at the table when Crowley got there, and he looked at them anxiously as he approached. He tried his best to ignore it, collapsing into his seat beside Anathema and scanning the table for his desired snack. He knew himself well enough to know that he would indeed burst instantly into tears should there not be a plate of toast on the table, and was infinitely relieved to find one. He grabbed five pieces and dumped them onto his plate, stuffing one into his mouth immediately.

"How was class?" Anathema asked him. She sounded a little nervous. Crowleh hated it. 

"Fine," He shrugged, speaking around a mouth full of toast. "Yours?" 

"The potions professor kinda scares me." Adam said, reaching over to try and steal one of Crowley's pieces of toast. Crowley slapped his hand away and grabbed another piece for himself.

"Professor white?" He asked, taking a bite. 

Adam nodded. "Yeah." 

"They're literally the coolest teacher I've ever had," Crowley said, smiling subconsciously when he thought about his potions classes. "Says their friends used to call them Pollution when they were in school, whatever that means. Aziraphale hates them, though. Says they're too unprofessional." 

"Speaking of Aziraphale," Anathema said, turning to look over her shoulder at the rest of the room. "Where is our favourite hufflepuff?" 

"Gryffindor table." Adam said. 

Crowley eyed him suspiciously for a second before turning to check for himself, scanning his eyes over the gryffindor table. It took him a few seconds and two sweeps of the table before he spotted him, engaged in deep conversation with Michael and another boy Crowley didn't recognize. Adam was sitting opposite him and realistically had a much better view of the other tables than he and Anathema did, but Crowley was still impressed that he managed to spot him so fast. 

"Why is he talking to Gabriel?" Anathema asked, her nose wrinkling in disgust as they watched Aziraphale laugh at something Gabriel said. 

"Beats me. Seems like being an asshole attracts fellow assholes." Crowley mused, turning back to the table and grabbing a third piece of toast. 

Anathema crossed her arms and leaned them against the table, looking over at Crowley intently. "About that. What he said this morning was super uncalled for, and I don't know if he apologized but if he didn't I'm gonna kick his ass." 

"He apologized," Crowley said, taking yet another bite of toast. It seemed he was using toast to cope with his emotions today. That was certainly a new one. "Didn't know what for, but he apologized." 

"Jeez." Anathema winced. 

"Is your dad really a death eater?" Adam asked, albeit a little hesitantly. 

He nodded. "Yeah. He is. How did you know that, by the way?" He aimed the last part at Anathema, taking another bite of toast while he waited for her to answer. 

"I remembered reading the names in the papers," She explained. She sounded incredibly apologetic. "I'm sorry for bringing him up." 

Crowley didn't have time to tell her that it was fine before he was interrupted by the arrival of a very large amount of owls. They had switched the time that mail arrived to lunch instead of breakfast due to an increasing number of older students skipping breakfast entirely to catch up on sleep and missing their post. Crowley himself had been guilty of doing that multiple times during his sixth year, and he was sure it was something he'd be doing during this one as well. Maybe with less frequency though, he did like seeing Adam and Anathema after all. 

"Speak of the devil," Crowley huffed, watching as a large black owl swept down towards them. "And he shall send his owl."

Said owl dropped a letter in Crowley's lap as it flew, not even bothering to stop before it circled around to leave again. His father's owl had never liked him. 

"Oh no." Anathema said, her eyes widening in shock. 

"Is that-" Adam asked, but he didn't finish. It was an understood thing between the three of them.

The owl had dropped a howler in Crowley's lap, as if his day needed to get any worse. He voiced as much to the other two, and Anathema stared at him with sympathy filled eyes. 

"You don't have to answer it," She said quickly, pushing her glasses up a bit. "You could just let it explode." 

"Better to get it over with." Crowley grumbled, already moving to open it. 

"Are you sure?" Anathema asked. 

Crowley nodded. "Yeah," He fiddled with it for a second before looking at the other two. "Might wanna cover your ears. My father tells rather loud." 

Both Adam and Anathema did as he suggested and Crowley took a deep breath, steadying himself before he opened the howler. It shot up into the air almost immediately and took the form of a mouth. 

"ANTHONY CROWLEY!" His father's voice bellowed out into the great hall, and suddenly nobody was talking. Crowley just hoped this wasn't a long one. "I AM DISGUSTED! I HAVE GIVEN YOU EVERYTHING BOY, EVERYTHING! AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME! WITH RUMORS OF YOU CONSORTING WITH MUDBLOODS," multiple students winced at the slur. "AND EVEN MORE RUMORS OF YOU BEING A FAGGOT!" 

Anathema slapped a hand over her mouth, looking at Crowley with wide, shocked eyes. Adam looked scared, more than anything, but it wasn't for himself. Crowley fixed his eyes on the table, deliberately not looking at anyone in the deathly silent great hall. Even the teachers had paused to listen. 

"IF I HEAR ONE MORE RUMOR ABOUT YOU COME OUT OF THAT SCHOOL I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD BOY, YOU HEAR ME? YOU'RE DEAD BOY! YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED TO CALL YOURSELF A CROWLEY!" And with that the shouting stopped and the howler ripped itself apart. 

Crowley kept his gaze firmly on the table, holding his breath in the completely still room. Kids got howlers all the time, it wasn't exactly uncommon, but they didn't usually include parents actively threatening their children's lives. Nobody seemed to know what to do, not even any of the professors. It was silent for a long moment before everything seemed to rush back to life, people talking over themselves as they took it upon themselves to discuss Crowley's family drama. 

"Crowley." Anathema said softly, laying a hand gently on his back. He kept his eyes fixed on the table. 

"Aziraphale is coming over." Adam said, and Crowley felt as though he were about to start sobbing any moment. 

"I can't see him right now," He croaked out, his eyes burning even more now. He really couldn't catch a break today, could he? "I can't I-" 

"Hey, it's okay, you don't have to," Anathema shushed him. She picked up her own and Crowley's bag, slipping out of her seat and grabbing Crowley's arm to pull him out of his. "Let's go for a walk, yeah? Adam-" 

"I'll tell him not to come after you guys." Adam said. Crowley had never seen him so upset. It made him feel like shit to know that it was his fault. 

"Come find us in the library after your last class, okay?" Anathema said softly. 

Adam nodded and Anathema took that as her cue to take off, steering Crowley away from the table with a hand on his back. She was warm and comforting at his side and he has to fight the urge to lean into it. He wouldn't look weak right now, not in front of the entire school. He fixed his eyes ahead of him, never before had he been so grateful for his sunglasses, and tried to ignore all of the noise filtering in around him. 

"Crowley!" He heard Aziraphale call, and against his better judgement he turned to look at him. 

He caught sight of his worried expression just as Anathema lead him out of the great hall, pulling him out of the room and Aziraphale out of his view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale sweetie please use your one brain cell before you speak. Fuck Asmodeus am I right through. Any predictions on what may happen next? Leave them in the comments along with any of your other thoughts they're my only source of happiness.


	4. The Room of Requirement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Anathema talk, and the two of them come to a realization that could lead them well on their way to finding the antichrist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to point out any spelling or grammatical errors that you find :)

Anathema didn't take him far, just around the corner and into a hallway nobody was using at the moment, but Crowley was thankful to be away from all the noise. He smiled a bit at her, though he was sure it looked rather forced, and slumped against the wall. It wouldn't be long before a professor came after them, maybe ten minutes at most, but he intended to use those ten minutes to breathe. 

"That was some howler." Anathema said, leaning against the wall next to him. 

Crowley laughed bitterly. "Yeah, I don't think he's ever been so mad. Well, maybe a time or ten before, but it's been a while since he's used those particular slurs." 

"Crowley, about what your dad said-" She started. 

"I'm not gay," He cut her off, turning to face her. "If that's what you were going to ask. I'm not."

He was lying through his teeth and he was pretty sure Anathema could see right through him, but thankfully she didn't say anything about it. 

"And the mudblood he was talking about?" She asked, wrinkling her nose up with disgust and regret when she said the slur.

"Aziraphale," Crowley said. "He mentions him every time he sends me a howler." 

Anathema's eyebrows rose in shock. "That wasn't the first time he's sent a howler like that?" 

He snorted and shook his head. "God no. Usually waits until Christmas break at least to send them, though. He must be particularly pissed this time." 

"Oh Crowley." Anathema said softly.

Crowley turned to look at her, to ask her what she was on about, and she stood up on her toes to pull him down into a hug. Crowley stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what he was supposed to do, before wrapping his arms around her slowly. She pulled him in a little tighter when he did and he relaxed a bit, pressing his face to her hair. It had been a long while since someone hugged him with the intent of being comforting, he realized, and he hasn't realized how much he needed it until now. 

"Your dad is a dick." Anathema declared, her voice muffled slightly by Crowley's shoulder. 

He laughed, holding on a little tighter. "He is." He agreed, smiling a bit even though he knew she couldn't see it. 

"Hey," Anathema said after a bit, pulling away from him and finally settling herself back on flat feet, although she didn't go far. "I heard that there's a secret room in the school and I haven't been able to find it yet." 

"The room of requirement." Crowley grinned, nodding. 

"Do you know where it is?" She asked, and he nodded again. 

"Yeah. Most people don't, but I met George Weasley once and he was more than happy to tell me how to get there." He explained. 

Anathema's face lit up. "Show me. We can skip out next classes and go hang out there." 

He tried his best to look like he was considering it, even though nothing had ever sounded like a better idea. "Only if you tell me more about the antichrist." He said. 

She grinned and nodded before schooling her face into a more serious expression and holding out her hand. "Deal." 

Crowley tried to fight off his own smile. "Deal," he said, taking her hand to shake. "Follow me then." 

He lead her down the hallways and up a couple staircases, wishing that Hogwarts had elevators a couple times during their trip. He told Anathema as much and she laughed, agreeing with him. Nobody was around to question them, most students and teachers still in the great hall for lunch. He wondered if people were still talking about the howler his dad had sent, and Anathema said that they'd probably forget about it in a couple of days. He knew they wouldn't, but he appreciated her for trying. 

It wasn't hard for Crowley to find the room of requirement, what with how many times he'd been there. It had become his own little hideaway after he'd learned where it was. Nobody besides his cat had ever gone with him, but that was okay. Sharing the space with someone felt a little odd, but not unwelcome. Maybe that was due in part to the fact that it was Anathema. It could also have something to do with the fact that Crowley was terribly lonely and desperately needed a friend outside of Aziraphale and, of course, his cat, though if Bently could talk the first thing she'd say would probably be a proclamation of her undying hatred for Crowley. He tried not to think too hard about that. 

"How does nobody know this is here?" Anathema asked, looking around the large room in awe when they stepped in. 

It looked much the same as it always did, a cluttered room full of random things and furniture, and Crowley took in a deep breath, the familiar comfort of the room settling into his bones. 

"They know it's here," He said, loosening his tie as he walked over to a choice and all but collapsed down onto it. "They're just not exactly sure where or how to get in." 

"And you know because, what? You asked George Weasley nicely?" Anathema teased, plopping down next to him. 

Crowley turned and grinned at her. "Precisely." 

She scoffed and settled more firmly against the couch, her eyes still taking in the room around them, and Crowley found himself watching her as she did. She was an incredibly pretty girl, he'd be an idiot to say she wasn't. She had a lovely face and a nice body and a great personality and Crowley was stuck wondering why he couldn't just like her instead. Why did he have to be stuck liking someone like Aziraphale when Anathema was right there. He liked Anathema, he liked her a lot, and she was a girl. It would all be a lot easier if he could just like her instead, but he couldn't force himself to, too stuck in liking someone else that he shouldn't, and he hated it. 

"What are you thinking about?" Anathema asked, turning back to him and catching his eye as he stared.

"You." Crowley said simply, though neither really knew what it meant. 

"Hey, do you know how to braid hair?" She asked suddenly. 

He tilted his head a bit in confusion. "Yeah, why?"

"Do mine while we talk about the antichrist." Anathema told him. She didn't ask, she simply instructed him to, and Crowley found himself complying easily. 

She leaned down to pull the massive prophecy book out of her bag, Crowley was infinitely glad she had thought to grab their bags, before shifting on the couch so she was sitting cross legged, her back to Crowley, who mirror her position. She pulled her hair out of the half up half down style it was done up in and handed him the hair tie without looking behind her, her eyes already fixed on the book spread open on her lap. 

Crowley combed his fingers through her hair. "Tell me everything you already know." 

"That's not a lot," Anathema said, pushing her glasses up her nose. "I know they're in slytherin." 

"Course they are." Crowley grumbled, sectioning off parts of her hair softly. He'd gotten exceptionally good at braiding hair without pulling.

"I know," She sighed, leading through the pages. "But that's what the prophecy told me." 

Crowley saw the massive amounts of notes scribbled around the pages of the book, most in a messy handwriting that he couldn't read, and he couldn't help but admire all of the work Anathema had put into figuring out the prophecies that Agnes Nutter had left behind. Crowley had done a project on Agnes Nutter during his second year history of magic class, something that Aziraphale said was weirdly like what they'd do in a muggle school. She'd left one prophecy book behind and, upon realize everything written in it turned out to be correct, many people had tried to buy the book from her family for incredibly absurd amounts of money through the years. They had held onto it though, and now here it was, one of the most important wizarding artifacts in the world, and it was right in front of him. 

"Knowing that they're in slytherin doesn't really help, though." He mused. 

"It doesn't," She agreed. "Especially not this year. It doesn't specify that they're even a Hogwarts student." 

"So we narrowed it down to a quarter of the Hogwarts population and then added however many were sorted into slytherin from the other schools. Great." 

"It definitely makes finding them harder." Anathema said. 

"Why do we need to find the antichrist though?" Crowley asked, fingers working gently on braiding her hair. She had more of it than it looked like she did. "I mean, what are they gonna do? End the world?"

"That is exactly what they're going to do." She said, and Crowley felt a bit stupid.

"Oh."

"That's not all," Anathema said, flipping quickly to a different page. "I think they might have something to do with the tournament." 

He froze for a second before he started braiding again. "How?" 

"Well, from what I could understand from the last couple prophecies, it sounds like the last event in the tournament will have something to do with the antichrist." She explained.

"If the antichrist has something to do with the tournament, that means the best way to get to them is to enter it." Crowley realized, thinking out loud as he spoke.

"Exactly. I don't know enough about the tournament to be sure, though." She shifted a bit and Crowley paused his hands to let her. 

"The last task is usually the biggest. It takes a while and the champions are in more danger than they were in the other tasks. It's when almost every death in the tournaments history has happened. Cedric Diggory died during the last task, though that is a bit of a bad example since Voldemort killed him. You get what I mean though." He explained. 

"That sounds like exactly the type of task you'd find the antichrist in. How do you know all that?" Anathema asked. 

He shrugged. "I think it's interesting, so I looked into it once. I'm not as stupid as Aziraphale says I am." 

Anathema sighed and closed the book. "About that." 

"Ah, it's time for the feelings portion of this conversation." Crowley mused, pulling lightly on a bit of hair to make sure she knew he was teasing. 

"He said that you're just like your dad. But I heard your dad in that howler, and there's no way you're anything like him." She said. 

"You're the first to think that." He told her. 

"And Adam doesn't either," Anathema said quickly. "And there's no way Aziraphale can actually think that, can he?" 

Crowley sighed and filled with the hair tie she'd given him, looping it around the end of her braid. "I can't safely say anything he thinks. Turn around." 

She did as he asked, her knees bumping his. He couldn't help but feel that the contact should have felt romantic to him, sent tingles down his spine like it did in the muggle movies and books he let himself indulge in. He didn't feel anything like that, though, no single spark of attraction or romance, and he tried not to be bitter about it. 

"You're nothing like your dad, Crowley." Anathema said. 

"Again, you're the first to think that." He said, pulling little pieces of hair out of the braid to frame her face better. 

"Well everyone else is stupid," She said defiantly, and Crowley could have laughed if he wanted to. "And unless you're a homophobic bigot then I don't see anything you have in common with that monster." 

"Nope, not homophobic. I fully support the gays." Unless they're you, his brain supplied, and he squashed it down. 

Anathema must have heard the shakiness in his voice, though, maybe noticed the way he shook a bit as he played with her hair, and she shifted a bit and pulled him into another hug. He let her, pressing his face against her shoulder as he hugged her tightly. He took a few deep, steadying breaths, his shoulders drooping at the way she lightly ran her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. Now that she'd started letting this happen he didn't think he was capable of letting it stop, and the day it did he thought he might break. He wasn't crying, he refused to let himself cry, but his body was shaking like he was and Anathema only pulled him in closer. 

"You're nothing like him." She told him again, her voice quiet as she whispered it beside his ear, and Crowley let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. 

Crowley had never wanted to turn out like his father, had never intended to, yet everyone thought that was what he would be. He wa it everywhere. In the comments Aziraphale made about him being inherently bad, in the brief look of horror that crossed teachers faces when they read his name on attendance sheets for the first time, in the lower amount of applause the slytherin kids got during sorting ceremonies. Everyone everywhere seemed to be against him but this, now, sitting with Anathema and letting everything go, it seemed as though everything was right. Maybe it was only in this room, and the moment he stepped back out into the school and walked to his transfiguration class everything would be against him again, but he would always have this. This room, this girl, this unexpected but more than welcome friendship. And that was more than he'd ever found himself having before.

"Oh God, look at me, I'm a mess." Crowley huffed, reluctantly pulling away and wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his robes. 

"I just hope you didn't mess up my braid." Anathema said. 

"Right, yes! Let's find you a mirror." He got up quickly, adjusting his sunglasses as he did so, and walked around the room a bit in search of one. 

Anathema followed behind him, still looking around as though she couldn't believe that the room existed at all. Crowley got it. He'd been shocked himself the first time he went to the room. How the teachers hasn't managed to find it yet when he knew they'd been trying for years really said something. What that was was that they clearly weren't trying that hard, but that didn't sound as edgy and fake deep. Crowley found a mirror on one of the crowded shelves and grabbed it, spinning around to face Anathema with it clutched tightly in his hand. 

"Close your eyes," He said, and she did. He held the mirror out in front of him at her eye level. "Okay, open them on three. One, two-" 

She opened her eyes on two just to piss him off, but the joke quickly became pointless when she caught sight of her reflection. "Oh my God!" She gasped, turning in different directions to get a better look at the braid.

"You like it?" Crowley asked, suddenly a little self conscious.

Anathema nodded and grinned brightly at him. "I really like it." 

Crowley opened his mouth to respond when the loud end of class bell sounded, the obnoxious sound breaking up whatever the moment was turning out to be. It seemed he had spent more time being comforted than he thought. He and Anathema looked at each other in distaste before reluctantly grabbing their bags and heading out. They had to separate quickly, Anathema had divination next and it was all the way across the school, and Crowley felt the good mood that had been starting to build within him drain at an alarmingly fast pace. Other students watched him as he walked past, a mixture of amusement and pity on their faces. Crowley felt sick from their gazes lingering on him. 

Class was, as it turned out, just as awful as he'd been expecting it to be. The moment he sat down the gryffindor boy next to him felt the need to ask if he really was gay and Crowley nearly slammed his head into the table, only deterred by the looming threat of suspension or expulsion. He didn't want to miss any of the tournament or risk something happening with the antichrist and not be there to help Anathema. Never in his life had Crowley been so thankful to be told that they were taking notes instead of practicing what they were learning. He didn't think he'd be able to get a hold of his wand without hexing the next person to ask about the howler. 

That in and of itself was a blessing, because the next person to ask about it was, in fact, the professor herself. She tended to walk around the room while students wrote things down, and after making a loop of the room she wandered back to Crowley's desk. The kid in front of him, who had been impishly pestering Crowley about the howler for a couple minutes now, spun around in his chair as quickly as he could when he saw her approaching. Most students feared Professor War, though Crowley couldn't find a reason why. She was all talk with an intimidating last name, that was all. He was sure even Aziraphale could take her in a fight.

"Hey," She said, leaning on his desk slightly. "Heard you got a howler at lunch." She didn't hear, she saw it happen and heard his father yelling at him via piece of paper, he'd seen her sitting at the teachers table when he walked in. He didn't tell her that though.

"Yeah." He said, not even bothering to look up at her as he answered, instead pretending he'd been taking notes at all.

"Wanna talk about it?" She asked, and Crowley swore if he had his wand he would have hexed her. 

"Nope." He said instead.

"Alright cool." She said, patting him on the shoulder and continuing on her rounds. She wasn't great at the feelings type of stuff, Crowley guessed. 

By the time class ended Crowley felt completely drained, wanting nothing more than to skip dinner and head back to the common room to curl up with his cat and cry before anyone else got there. As it was, however, he had to go to the great hall and catch up with Adam, who he was sure was more than worried about him. Anathema had told him to meet her in the library so she could update him on Crowley's mental state, or so she'd said, so he took an extra long time getting to the great hall to make sure he didn't end up by himself. He even went as far as going to the common room to dump his bag and hug Bentley for a couple minutes before reluctantly pulling himself away and down to the great hall. 

He could hear the room quiet a bit, though not completely, which he appreciated, when he walked in, and he tried not to focus on it. Instead he turned his attention to the slytherin table, searching for his friends, and when he found them he could have cried. Adam met his eyes and was out of his seat as soon as he did, rushing towards him. Crowley caught him in a hug once he reached him, letting the younger boy squeeze him around the stomach. He wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to hug him back, Adam was quite short in comparison to him, after all, but he tried his best anyways. He couldn't help thinking that he had gotten more hugs today than he had since before he started at Hogwarts. 

Adam didn't move far from Crowley's side, sitting down right next to him when they got to the table. Anathema and Aziraphale were there too, one looking decidedly more anxious than the other, and it wasn't hard for Crowley to tell that Anathema was still a little annoyed about what Aziraphale had said to him earlier and, in turn, hadn't told him anything about how Crowley was doing. There was another girl there too, about Adam's age, in a gryffindor tie and robes, and she stared at Crowley as he sat down. She looked oddly familiar. 

"Hi?" He asked, unsure of who the girl was or why she was sitting with them.

"I'm Pepper," She said, and Crowley realized where he knew her from. The sorting ceremony. She had been the one with the ridiculous last name. "I was there when you got the howler this morning and I had to make sure you were okay because that man didn't sound very nice." 

"She wouldn't leave me alone about it." Adam said, though he didn't look as annoyed as he was clearly trying to sound.

"Well, thanks. I'm okay though." Crowley said, smiling warmly at Pepper, who looked as though she didn't believe him but nodded anyway. 

"Okay, then I guess I'll go back to my own table. It was nice to meet you all." And she was gone without another word. 

"Nice friend you've got there." Crowley said, turning to look at Adam.

He blushed a little. "Whatever." 

There was a commotion from the gryffindor table, a lot of cheering a whooping, and they all turned to investigate. Gabriel was stood up, sauntering towards the goblet of fire as his friends all cheered him on. He was making quite the spectacle of it, Crowley thought, as he watched Gabriel step over the age line surrounding the cup only to be met with applause. He held his hand and the piece of parchment held in it over the cup for a few moments, letting the others cheer him on, before he dropped it in and the entire gryffindor table erupted into applause. Aziraphale clapped a bit too, and he didn't notice the look both Crowley and Anathema gave him. 

"Well, that was quite entertaining, was it not?" Aziraphale said, turning back to the table. "The tournament is turning out to be rather fun so far." Crowley didn't have the heart to tell him that he would change his mind once the dangerous part started. 

"Speaking of the tournament," Anathema said, her voice serious, and the other three turned their full attention back to her. She met eyes with Crowley across the table, looking directly at him as she spoke. "We need to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is late and shorter than the rest and probably full of mistakes it took me forever to finish for some reason but I promise the next one will be better. Leave me your opinions and thoughts and theories in the comments please I love reading them and they make my day :)


	5. Hight and Mighty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of then getting chosen as the Hogwarts champion was their best bet at finding and stopping the antichrist, Crowley knew that, he just wishes Aziraphale wouldn't make it so hard for him to put his name in at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to point out any spelling or grammatical errors that you find :)

"I don't like this." 

"I know." 

"I mean it, I really don't like this."

"Yeah, I got that the first twenty times you said it." 

Crowley and Aziraphale had been arguing for all of herbology about what Anathema and Crowley had discovered. Their best bet of finding the antichrist was for one of them to enter into the triwizard tournament. While it wasn't mandatory for them to enter it to find them, it seemed like it would make the entire thing just that much easier. The problem, though, was that the only people old enough to enter were, predictably, Crowley and Aziraphale.

"I mean, the competition is dangerous." Aziraphale said, watering the plant he was working with just a little too much. 

"I know, angel," Crowley sighed. "But it's our best bet. It's not guaranteed that we'd be chosen anyway." 

"Exactly. So why do either of our names need to go in at all?" Aziraphale argued.

Crowley had been thinking about putting his name in since he first learned that the tournament was happening, and Aziraphale had been steady in his lack of support. While he found the history of the tournament fascinating, he wasn't the biggest fan of the danger and death aspect of it all, and he'd told Crowley as much a hundred times while trying to discourage him from participating. It hadn't worked, in fact it had only strengthened Crowley's desire to participate out of pure spite, which had only saved to make Aziraphale try harder to discourage it. It was a very dangerous cycle for the two of them to fall into. 

Aziraphale said something but it was drowned out by the obnoxious end of class bell, so he rolled his eyes and tried again as they packed up. "We could try other ways to find the antichrist. Decoding more prophecies, perhaps." 

Crowley huffed out a bit of a laugh, making sure to shoot their plants a particularly menacing glare that had them trembling in their pots as they walked out of class. They had the best looking plants in the class currently, and Crowley wasn't going to let them fall behind. "Believe me when I tell you that Anathema has decoded just about every prophecy in that book. I've seen her notes."

"Ah. You and Anathema have gotten rather close, haven't you?" Aziraphale mused. 

Crowley winced, just a little, though the other didn't seem to notice. "Yeah. She's a lovely girl." 

"You like her, don't you? In a romantic way, I mean." Aziraphale asked, and Crowley almost tripped over nothing in his shock. 

"What?" He sputtered, unconsciously grabbing onto Aziraphale to steady himself. "Of course not." 

"Sure thing my dear." Aziraphale smiled, clearly not believing a word that came out of Crowley's mouth. Crowley tried his hardest not to be better about it. 

Neither said much as they walked to dinner, both too preoccupied with their own thoughts to bother voicing any of them. Crowley kept glancing at Aziraphale, wondering just what is was he was thinking about. He knew he didn't want him to put his name in the goblet of fire, though he wasn't sure why. They both knew that it was dangerous, but Crowley thrived when it came to dangerous things. It was the same reason Aziraphale had told him not to try out for the quidditch team, and now look at him, showing up to everyone one of Crowley's games to cheer him on, much to the distaste of his friends. The triwizard tournament is something he'd always wanted to do, ever since he'd heard about it, it was an ever present wish at the back of his mind, a bucket list item he didn't think he'd get to check off. Even if the antichrist wasn't a problem they had to deal with he probably would have put his name in. It was everything he'd ever wanted to do.

"You're sure you're not okay with throwing your name in?" Crowley asked suddenly, just to be sure. 

"Absolutely not," Aziraphale scoffed, before turning to Crowley, his eyes wide. "You're not thinking of putting your name in, are you?" 

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe." He took the stairs into the school three at a time, leaving Aziraphale to catch up. 

"Crowley you can't!" Aziraphale called after him, rushing to catch up. "It's too dangerous!"

"You said the same thing about quidditch and look at me," Crowley spun around, arms stretched out beside him. He stumbled a bit as he walked backwards, but it gave Aziraphale the chance to catch up. "Still alive." 

"But this is worse," Aziraphale pressed. "This has killed people before." 

Crowley shrugged. "So has quidditch." 

"Crowley I'm serious!" Aziraphale said, his voice a little too loud and attracting a little too much attention from the people around them. He was quieter when he spoke again. "I can't allow you to do this!" 

"Funny, I don't remember asking for your permission." Crowley snapped, speeding up and leaving Aziraphale behind as he marched into the great hall. 

He shot a menacing glare at a couple of kids he caught staring at him and they turned away as fast as they could, clearly shaken. Crowley headed immediately in the direction of the slytherin table, not bothering to check if Aziraphale was following him, and all but collapsed into the vacant seat beside Anathema. Adam was joined by a boy his age in a ravenclaw tie Crowley didn't recognize. The two were deep in conversation about ice cream flavors it sounded like. Adam shot Crowley a smile when he sat down before immediately turning all of his attention back to the conversation. 

"Hey," Anathema said, smiling at him and turning her attention away from the prophecy book open in front of her. "How was class?" 

"Long," Crowley said, sinking down in his seat and loosening his tie. "Spent most of it arguing with Aziraphale." 

As if summoned by the sound of his name the hufflepuff joined them, slipping into a vacant spot across from Anathema. "You seem to have been busy." He said, gesturing to the new notes scrawled around the pages. He didn't even look in Crowley's direction. 

Anathema glances between the two of them, clearly confused, before pushing up her glasses and turning back to the book. "Yeah, I think I've figured out some more stuff."

"Which ones?" Crowley asked, sliding closer to her on the bench to get a better look at the pages. He didn't miss the way Aziraphale looked at the two of them, but he ignored it. 

"This one," Anathema said, tapping her finger over one of the prophecies. "And this one." 

"What did you figure out?" Aziraphale asked, leaning forward slightly. 

"Well, if I got this right-" Anathema started. 

"You did," Crowley cut her off, and she turned to face him. "You always get it right, you're super smart." 

She flushed a bit and turned back to the book. "Right, well the first one is basically just confirming what we already know, that they're going to be involved with the tournament. It says something about the slytherin champion again, and I don't know why Adam thinks that means you." She directed the last part at Crowley. 

"He caught the snitch," Aziraphale explained. "Won the quidditch cup for slytherin last." 

Anathema looked mildly impressed. "Nice job." 

"Whatever." Crowley huffed, flushing a bit. 

"What about the second one?" Aziraphale asked, thankfully taking the attention away from Crowley. 

"It's saying it's someone close to home," Anathema said, looking a little put out by it. "But that doesn't really narrow anything down." 

"Why not? Sounds like it does." Crowley asked. 

"Because it doesn't elaborate any more than that. It could be someone from Ilvermorny, because that's the school I come from, or one or my friends, or it could even just be another way of saying they'll be in slytherin." She explained. 

Aziraphale looked distraught. "So that didn't help at all?"

"Well we do know one thing," Crowley said, turning his gaze in the direction of the goblet at the front of the hall. "Somebody's gotta get their name in that cup." 

"No." Aziraphale said. His voice was loud and firm, a drastic change from how it usually sounded. 

Crowley sighed. "Angel-" He started, but Aziraphale cut him off. 

"Do not be sweet with me right now Crowley because I swear it won't get you anywhere," Aziraphale snapped. Crowley was taken back. Aziraphale didn't usually get this mad, even at his more stupid ideas. "I don't care if we have no other choice, I'm not allowing you to risk your life for this. We'll figure something else out, end of discussion." 

Crowley sighed, looking down at his plate of uneaten food, and suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore. 

"I think I'm done." He said, pushing the plate away from him and standing up, reaching down to grab his bag as he did so. 

"Crowley, please." Aziraphale huffed. He sounded annoyed. Crowley didn't know why, he had no right to feel annoyed. 

"I'll see you later." Crowley said, taking off from the great hall and heading immediately to the common room. 

Nobody stopped him on his way out, though he did notice Adam and his friend stop their conversation for a moment to watch him. Anathema, for her part, looked rather confused, but Crowley didn't care. He'd heard enough of Aziraphale's arguments today to last him a lifetime. He wasn't getting it, they couldn't just avoid this. This wasn't just another one of his dumb ideas like seeing what would happen if he jumped off his broom when it was really high up or trying to blow something up in potions. This was the actual end of the world that he and Anathema were trying to prevent, and putting his name in the goblet of fire was one of the best bets they had at stopping the antichrist. Aziraphale needed to get that through his head.

He didn't even bother going up to his specific room once he reached the slytherin common room. Instead he just threw off his robes and tie and threw himself down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling in silence for an unknown amount of time. There was nobody else there, so he slipped his sunglasses off and put them on the floor next to his bag, blinking his eyes to get them used to the light. He didn't often take his sunglasses off at school, too afraid of what people would say when they saw his eyes, but he couldn't stand having them on anymore. He closed his eyes, settling into couch a little more and taking a deep breath. 

He heard the soft padding of feet and felt a familiar weight slam into his chest, not even having to open his eyes to recognize Bently settling down on his abdomen. He sighed, running his fingers through her fur. She meowed softly and Crowley couldn't stop himself from smiling. He sat up a bit and cracked open one eye, looking down at her and she dug her claws into his sweater, and she started back at him, unblinking and determined, and dug her claws right into his chest. He laughed a little bit, and she made a sound of annoyance at how it dislodged her claws from his flesh, before closing his eyes and leaning back on the couch again.

The common room was almost completely silent for a few minutes, nothing but the sound of Crowley's breathing and Bentley's purring to be heard. It was calming, he thought, to be surrounded by absolutely nothing for a while. He'd left so early into dinner that it would be a while before anyone got back, or so he thought. He heard someone walk in after about ten minutes, for the most part, he didn't physically react, though one of his hands dropped from his cat towards where his sunglasses were resting on the floor. 

"It's just us." He heard Anathema say, and instantly he relaxed a bit more, though he didn't move his hand from his sunglasses. 

"Hey Bentley." He heard Adam say, caring more about the cat then he did about Crowley because of course he did. He felt Adam climb over his legs and settle between them and the back of the couch. He crossed one over the other to give him more room. 

"Lift your head." Anathema said, and Crowley, despite not understanding, lifted his head, much to the distaste of Bently. 

Anathema sat down where his head was before and pushed it back down so it was resting on her leg instead. Bently, clearly having had enough of all of the moving, meowed in annoyance and moved down to Crowley's stomach where both he and Adam could reach him. His hand bumped Adam's a couple of times as they both tried to pet her and she was obviously thriving under the attention. 

"You know Aziraphale wasn't trying to be an ass," Anathema said after a while, her voice soft. "He just wants you to be safe." 

"Doesn't mean he wasn't being an ass." Crowley said.

Anathema laughed a little, dropping her hand to his head and playing with his hair a bit. He tried and failed not to lean into it. "No, it doesn't. But he was only being an ass because he cares." 

"I agree with him," Adam said, and Crowley should have guessed that he was listening to them. "Being the champion would be cool, but I don't want you to get hurt." 

Crowley was tempted to sit up and look at him, but he didn't have his sunglasses on and didn't want to risk Adam freaking out over his eyes. That would just be the cherry on top of an already shitty day. "I know, but I'm not gonna get hurt." 

"You say that now." Anathema murmured, Crowley only hearing it because he was so close to her, but she dropped the subject. 

"Who was that kid you were sitting with at dinner?" Crowley asked, nudging Adam with his foot to let him know he was taking to him.

"That was Wensleydale," Adam explained, and Crowley could practically hear the smile in his voice. "His first name is Jeremy, but nobody calls him that, not even his parents. He's in my flying class." 

"Is he nice?" Anathema asked, her fingers still in Crowley's hair. 

Crowley assumed Adam nodded. "Yeah. He's really good at flying too." 

"Tell him he can come out to the quidditch pitch with us on Saturday if he wants." Crowley said, and the sound of Adam lighting up was practically audible. 

"You're really gonna show me some tricks?" Adam asked. 

Crowley nodded, though the action was rather awkward in his current position. "Yeah, why not." 

"You're the best Crowley!" Adam said, excitement dripping from his voice, and Crowley felt himself smile. 

Adam and Anathema fell into a quiet conversation about quidditch, Crowley pitching in now and then when they said something he could contribute to, and he felt himself get more and more relaxed. How he managed to go six years without having anything like this he didn't know. The two of them were the best support system he'd ever had, and he didn't think he'd be able to go back to not having them. He knew he'd have to, Anathema would have to go back to Ilvermorny and Crowley would be leaving the school and Adam behind in less than a year, but he was trying not to focus on that too much. 

He didn't remember falling asleep, nor did he remember how he ended up in his room, but that's where he woke up the next morning, still in his clothes from the day before and a small post it note a smiley face on it stuck to his sunglasses. Bentley was curled up next to his head, snoring away and twitching occasionally, and Crowley stared at the ceiling for a long moment, feeling more well rested than he had in years. The feeling didn't last long, though, and soon his regular exhaustion was catching up with him in the form of Aziraphale as he made his way to the great hall. 

"Crowley!" He called out, and Crowley really was tempted to smash his face into a wall. 

He didn't slow down, letting him run to catch up to him. "Aziraphale." 

"So I was thinking last night." Aziraphale started. 

"You tend to do that a lot." Crowley replied, his voice monotone. He didn't bother looking at him either. 

"Yes, but it was important." Aziraphale tried again. 

"It always is, angel." Crowley said.

Aziraphale groaned and Crowley got a little bit of sadistic pleasure out of upsetting him. "Will you please just listen to me!" 

Crowley sighed but he complied, stopping mid step and turning to face Aziraphale instead. The hallway they were in was completely deserted, one of Crowley's quicker routes that nobody ever used, and he could tell that Aziraphale had cornered him there to make sure their conversation was private. 

"Alright," He said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at him intently. "Talk." 

"I was thinking about the antichrist," Aziraphale said, not wasting any time. "And a thought crossed my mind. About who the antichrist could be." 

"Great, let's go tell Anathema." Crowley said, already moving to leave. 

Aziraphale stepped in front of him to stop him. "No. I wanted to tell you the theory first. Privately. " 

"What is it?" Crowley asked, more than a little confused. The antichrist was a subject all four of them should be discussing, not just him and Aziraphale. Surely he should want Anathema to know if he had a theory, right? 

"Alright just, don't get mad." Aziraphale pleaded. 

"Mad?" Crowley said, raising an eyebrow. "Why would I be mad, angel."

Aziraphale took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, and Crowley had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to be mad anyway. "What if the antichrist is you?" 

If Crowley had had something in his mouth he surely would have choked on it. Instead he just sputtered a bit, staring at Aziraphale with his eyes wide in shock. "Are you joking?" 

"Just think about it," Aziraphale said, waving his hands about a bit as he talked. Crowley couldn't even focus on that like he normally would, too dumbfounded by the mere idea that he was the antichrist. "The antichrist is a slytherin, so are you. You're referenced a couple times throughout the book with the whole champion of serpents bit. They're supposed to be closely tied to the triwizard tournament, and you're so determined to get your name in the goblet. And Anathema said it was someone close to home, and whatever you two have going on right now seems very close to home." 

"You're insane." Crowley said sharply, turning around to leave.

"Crowley, it makes sense!" Aziraphale called after him, and Crowley couldn't stop himself from turning back around to stare at him. 

"You're fucking insane, I can't believe this," Crowley sputtered. "What on earth makes you think I'm capable of being the antichrist? Do you think I'm evil or something?" 

"Well, you certainly don't have the best defense what with your-" Aziraphale stopped himself, clearly thinking better of what he was about to say. 

Crowley felt his blood boil. "With my what?" Aziraphale didn't say anything, which only served to anger Crowley further. "My what?" He snapped. 

"Your father." Aziraphale said, and Crowley didn't know if he wanted to cry, throw up, or punch him. Some odd combination of all three, most likely. 

"This again?" Crowley scoffed, taking a few steps back from him.

"I just want you to consider," Aziraphale said, though his voice was shaking a bit. "That you aren't especially good, even more so when you take into consideration how similar to your father you are." 

Crowley couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed Aziraphale by the shirt, slamming him into the wall behind him and getting right up close to his face. Aziraphale's breath quickened a bit, and Crowley squeezed a little tighter, using the leverage he had to pull Aziraphale off the ground. 

"Do I scare you?" He asked, his breath ghosting across the others face. "Or have you forgotten that you're one of those muggle borns I apparently hate so much." 

"That's not what I-" Aziraphale started, and Crowley cut him off. It wasn't his turn to speak right now. 

"Oh, but it is. Because my father wasn't just mean, no, he was a death eater. And deep down you think that's all I'll amount to as well, right?" Aziraphale looked shocked and a little hurt, which only spurred Crowley on more. "Oh don't play stupid. I've heard you talking to your friends, you're only spending time with me to try and steer me down the right path. Don't deny it. You hate me, just like everyone else." He dropped him, taking a couple steps back, and Aziraphale stumbled a bit. 

"Alright yes, that's why I started spending time with you, but that's not why I kept doing it." He defended. 

"Bullshit!" Crowley shouted, and Aziraphale jumped a little. Good. Let him be scared. If he was going to compare him to a monster Crowley may as well act the part. "You compare me to my father at every chance you get." 

"Because you are like your father." Aziraphale said.

Crowley could have punched him, he really could have, but he didn't, and he didn't know why. "I am nothing like my father! How long have we been friends, Aziraphale? Six years." 

"Friends? We're not friends." Aziraphale said, and it was so obviously a lie it was almost laughable. 

"When in those six years have I ever made you feel like all I wanted in the world was for you to be dead? Because that's who my father is, Aziraphale. He's a man who would kill you without hesitation if given the chance and if I was anything like him you wouldn't be standing here right now to have this conversation." Crowley sneered. 

He saw the way Aziraphale flinched, saw the way his eyes widened a bit and how harshly he swallowed, and it felt so wrong that he was the one inducing this reaction that he could have cried. 

"If you believed even a word of what was coming out of your mouth you wouldn't be here with me right now. You'd be in the great hall with Michael and Gabriel having a grand old time, not having this conversation. You can deny it all you want Aziraphale but I know you, better than anyone." His voice was a little softer now, less yelling and more firm, making sure he got his point across. 

"You don't know me." Aziraphale said quietly. He was holding it together well, but Crowley hadn't been lying. He knew him, and he picked up on the slight tremble in his voice, how he wasn't so sure of himself anymore.

"Oh but I do. You've always thought I was a little bit too much like my dad, I'll admit, but you always accepted me. You were there for me, my friend when nobody else would be. You were kind, Aziraphale, and I don't know what changed but you haven't been lately. Lately you've just been an ass, and I've had enough." Crowley said slowly, his eyes harsh as he stared at Aziraphale, the coldness behind them translating even though his sunglasses.

"Crowley-" 

"I'm not the person you've convinced yourself I am, and I know you know that, but until you get that into your head, this?" He waved his hand vaguely in Aziraphale's direction, but it got his point across crystal clear. "I'm done with this. You. Us. Whatever. Come find me when you're done being a piece of shit, okay?" 

"Crowley, please." Aziraphale pleaded, but Crowley wasn't having it. 

"See you later Aziraphale," He said, turning around and calling over his shoulder as he walked away. "Have a nice doomsday."

He didn't look back as he made his way to the great hall, feeling as though he were about to burst into tears at literally any second. He'd done it, he'd really done it. He'd finally told Aziraphale how he'd been feeling. It was out there, his thoughts and feelings floating around in the open, and it was up to Aziraphale to do with them as he pleased. The ball was in his court. It should have been relieving, truly it should have, but instead it left Crowley feeling a bit like he was going to be sick. This is exactly what he'd been afraid of, his worst fear brought to life. Because Aziraphale was his best friend, and he'd been hopelessly in love with him for years, and it was no longer up to him where their relationship went. Crowley was, for lack of a better word, terrified. 

Anathema picked up on it the moment he sat down beside her because of course she did, she noticed everything, and instead of talking about it, she tried to lighten the mood. He appreciated her greatly for it. 

"Hey, did you know more than half the slytherins think we're dating?" She asked, shoving a plate full of toast towards him. 

He smiled gratefully at her and grabbed a piece to stuff into his mouth. "Is that so?" 

Adam, who was sitting across the table, nodded violently, his hair bouncing around as he did so. "There's a betting pool over when you'll confirm that you are. I bet that you won't because you're not, so if you could make sure not to get together for at least the rest of the year that would be great." 

Anathema laughed. "How much do you get if you win?" 

He shrugged. "I'm not sure, but I know it's a lot." 

"Why don't we make it even more?" Crowley suggested, the other two shooting him confused looks. "Someone pass me a quill and some paper." 

Anathema gave him a piece of parchment and Adam passed over a quill, both clearly still confused, and Crowley's messy handwriting was scrawled on the parchment quickly. Anthony J Crowley, Hogwarts. He folded it in half and stood up more dramatically than was strictly necessary. Anathema seemed to be getting it now, but Adam, bless him, was still confused. 

"What are you doing?" He asked, and Crowley grinned wildly.

"I'm putting my name in the goblet." He said, walking backwards a few steps before almost tripping and turning around. 

Fueled entirely by rage, Crowley marched over to the goblet of fire. He hadn't been planning on making a big spectacle out of putting his name in, truly he wasn't, but something in him had flipped and now? Now he was just mad. More mad then he ever had been before. Mad at Aziraphale for thinking he was like his father and mad at his father for ever becoming such a bad person to be like. He was mad, no, livid. And he needed to do something productive instead of destructive with all that rage so, why not kill two birds with one stone and purposefully do something he knew Aziraphale didn't want him to do just to piss him off while simultaneously increasing their chances of finding and stopping the antichrist. It seemed like the perfect plan, if not a little poorly thought out.

He hopped over the age line, stupidly worried for a moment that it wouldn't let him over, and grinned wildly when it did. He figured he must look a little crazy, grinning widely to himself about being allowed to put his name into a possibly deadly competition, and he heard the room get a little bit quieter around him, people clearly interested in what he was doing. He turned his head back to the slytherin table, his eyes catching Anathema's, which only served to make him grin more. He held his hand out, the parchment held loosely between his index finger and his thumb, and used the other hand to point in her direction. 

"This is for you!" He called, only four people in the room truly knowing what he meant, and Anathema gave him the best fake lovesick look she could. 

Crowley grinned brightly back at her before turning back to the goblet. He took a deep breath, readying himself for what he was about to do. There was no going back from this, he reminded himself, once his name was in it was in, and with that thought in mind he let the parchment go and fall into the goblet. The slytherin table erupted into cheers, Adam and Anathema cheering more than anyone. Adam had gotten up on his seat as he clapped and Anathema winked at him when he looked at her. Crowley looked around the room a bit, surprised to see students from the other houses clapping as well. 

He spotted Adam's friends, Pepper and Wensleydale, clapping at their own respective tables and, surprisingly, Gabriel, who gave him a challenging smile when he caught his eye. He cast his gaze over to Aziraphale, who was sitting next to Michael and across from Gabriel, and he looked positively distraught. Crowley stared at him as he stepped back over the age line, not knowing if he'd made the right decision, and he didn't feel anything but bitter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little later than I intended it to be but it was worth it. We're getting there kids, things have been set in motion and can only go downhill from here. This chapter is also unedited as it took so long to finish so please bear with what is probably a large amount of mistakes. Thoughts, theories, opinions, criticisms? Leave them in the comments while you're here they make me feel better about myself and I absolutely love reading through them.


	6. Quidditch Tricks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley was planning on spending a lovely day with Adam and his friends teaching them quidditch tricks, but someone just had to come along and ruin that for them, because what else could have possibly happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to point out any spelling or grammatical errors that you find :)
> 
> *TW: homophobic slurs*

Unsurprisingly, their plans to go out to the Quidditch pitch where the only thing that got Crowley through the week. People really didn't seem capable of deciding if they liked Crowley yet or not. Sure, his status as seeker for the slytherin team and his skill when it came to Quidditch had improved his reputation from where it had been during his early years, but there were some students who just couldn't seem to let his father go. It was all rather annoying, really. Now, though, they all seemed even more confused as to how they should be feeling about him. All the attention was starting to give him major headaches, and by the time Saturday rolled around Crowley found himself more genuinely excited for something than he had been all year. 

Adam met him in the great hall for breakfast, three other kids with him, and they all looked positively giddy. He recognized Pepper and Wensleydale, but the other was unknown to him. He was a hufflepuff. Crowley didn't know how he knew, it was the weekend after all, and nobody was in their robes, but he knew. He gave off a very hufflepuff vibe. He sat down next to Adam and Pepper, smiling at the kids gathered around. 

"I see you've made some friends?" He asked Adam, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

Adam nodded. "We're calling ourselves The Them." 

"The Them?" Crowley asked. "That's a fun name. Who's that one?" He nodded in the direction of the unknown probably hufflepuff kid. If he wasn't a hufflepuff Crowley was going to be rather disappointed. Their little friend group could have one of each, he would love that for Adam. 

"I'm Brian." The boy said, not mentioning which house he was in. Crowley was going to get it out of him by the end of the day, he wasn't going to accept it if he didn't.

"Nice to meet you Brian. I'm Crowley." He said. 

Brian grinned, and Crowley felt even more like the boy was a hufflepuff from it. "I know. You're like, my hero." 

"Am I now?" Crowley laughed, and Brian nodded violently. 

"Yeah. You're the coolest Quidditch player out there. I can't believe you agreed to teach us some tricks." He looked positively starstruck.

Crowley had actually only invited Adam to learn some tricks and, by extension, Wensleydale, but they all looked so excited and he didn't babe the heart to shut them down.

"Anathema said she'd being my broom up for me and even we can head out, okay?" Crowley told them. 

The look Pepper got on her face when he said Anathema's name was as mischievous as he'd ever seen. Crowley loved it. "That's your girlfriend, right?" 

The other two boys turned to look at him in interest as well, and Adam, who already knew exactly what he was going to say, looked rather amused. "She's just a friend." He said. 

Pepper looked like she was going to ask more questions, but Crowley was saved by the arrival of the very girl they'd been talking about. Anathema plopped herself down next to Brian and Wensleydale, a boy Crowley only vaguely recognized trailing after her. 

"Morning gang," She said, smiling at the kids and Crowley. "I believe this is what you asked for."

She held up Crowley's broom and he smiled and nodded. She managed to pass it to him, albeit incredibly awkwardly, over the table, the only person to get hit in the face with it being Crowley himself. He felt his sunglasses slide down his nose with the broom and slammed his eyes shut, scrambling to get his glasses back on properly. His heart was hammering in his chest, terrified at the idea of anyone having seen his eyes, and when he opened them again Anathema was looking across the table at him, her eyes shining with great concern. 

"Jesus, be careful with that thing, will you?" Crowley huffed, rubbing at his nose and trying to play off what had happened with his glasses. Judging by the look on her face, Anathema wasn't buying it, and Crowley got the feeling they'd be talking about this later. He wasn't looking forward to that conversation. 

"Who's this?" Adam asked, gesturing to the boy Anathema had brought with her. 

"This is Newt." Anathema introduced, and that's all she said about it. Crowley found himself a little annoyed by these cryptically underdeveloped friends, but he wasn't going to voice it. 

"Newton. Pulsifer." Newt specified. 

Crowley straightened up and slammed his hand down on the table. "Pulsifer! You play Quidditch!"

Newt flushed a little in embarrassment and nodded. "Yeah. I'm not nearly as good as you, though." 

"Bullshit," Crowley scoffed. "You were bloody fantastic last year. Gave me a real run for my money." 

"Are you going to come out to the Quidditch pitch with us?" Wensleydale asked, clearly interested. 

Newt looked nervously between all of them. "Uh, if you guys will let me. I'll just have to swing by the common room and get my broom." 

"Perfect! You can teach these kids a thing or two as well." Crowley grinned, grabbing another piece of toast. 

"Is everyone done?" Anathema asked, and the kids all nodded enthusiastically. "Let's go by the hufflepuff common room then. We can head out after that." 

The seven of them got out of their seats, heading towards the entrance of the great hall, though Crowley doubled back to grab another piece of toast for good measure. Newt lead the way, the kids all excitedly talking to him about quidditch, and Crowley hung behind a bit. Anathema noticed, because of course she did, she noticed everything, and slowed down so she could walk with him. Pepper shot him a look when she did and Crowley had never before been so tempted to flip off a child. 

"You okay?" Anathema asked, linking her arm through his as they walked. "You seem quiet." 

Crowley nodded, smiling in her direction. "Yeah, I'm good. Just worried I'm gonna run into Aziraphale." 

"What happened between you two anyway?" She asked.

"I called him out for being a piece of shit and told him to find me when he was done acting like one." He said.

Anathema smiled. It was faint, as this wasn't something to be overly happy about, but it was there. "Good for you. You deserve better than how he was treating you." 

"Yeah," Crowley sighed. "I'm just scared to see him again." 

"I'm sure we won't run into him, don't worry." She assured him.

Anathema, for the first time since Crowley had met her, was wrong with that prediction. Newt got them into the common room with no problem, telling the others to stay there as he rushed off to his dorm, and there, on the other side of the room, was Aziraphale. He wasn't alone, either. He was with Michael and Gabriel, as he seemed to be so often these days. Uriel was with them too, but she was sat off to the side reading instead of participating in their conversation. The group of them were making quite a bit of noise, so it only made sense for them to look up, but Crowley wasn't prepared to see Aziraphale in person again so soon. He thought he'd have at least until their next divination class on Monday. 

"Crowley." He said quietly, though nobody else seemed to hear him over Michael, who let out a loud laugh when he saw them. 

"I'm sorry, there are no death eaters allowed in the common room." He said. 

That got the attention of some of the other people in the room, many of whom moved away when they saw Crowley standing there. He rolled his shoulders back and swung his broom up so it was resting on one of them, staring Michael down as he spoke. 

"Come on now, no need to be rude." He said, and Michael laughed again. Prick.

"What are you lot up to, then?" Michael asked, leaning forward as he did so. 

Anathema, who still had her arm linked with Crowley's, squeezed his bicep tightly. Newt chose that exact moment to walk back into the room, his own broom in hand, and he stilled when he saw how tense Crowley and Anathema were. He followed their gazes over to Michael and sighed, shifting his broom a bit in his hand. 

"Newton!" Michael said, voice dripping with fake enthusiasm. "I didn't know you had friends." 

"Come off it, Michael." Newt snapped. 

Michael and Gabriel both laughed. Aziraphale wasn't meeting Crowley's eyes. 

"Crowley's taking us out to show us some tricks on his broom," Pepper explained, and Crowley sighed she would just shut up. "So we're gonna have to cut this conversation short." 

The group moved to leave when Michael called out again. "Does Crowley know your parents are Muggles, Newt?" 

Adam went to move closer to him and Crowley grabbed his arm, holding him back. "Excuse me?" He said. 

Michael grinned wickedly. "Careful. Might try and push you off your broom. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, after all." 

Had Crowley not still had his hand on Adam's shoulder he was sure he would have gone over and punched him, though he wasn't sure how much good punching him would do him. 

"Come on now Michael," Gabriel laughed, how he found this entire thing amusing Crowley didn't know, but be was starting to understand why Anathema had said she hated him. "Be friendly. He could end up your schools champion, right Crowley?" 

Crowley didn't say anything, just stared at him with his jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists. He looked over at Aziraphale, who met his eye for a second before turning his gaze to the floor. He didn't say anything, because why would he? Crowley really should have seen this one coming, but he didn't, and he was still surprised that he didn't stand up for him. It stung, just a little bit, but Crowley did his best not to show it.

"You know, I feel bad for you kids," Michael said, ignoring Gabriel almost entirely. "Your parents are going to be so disappointed when you tell them you're friends with a Crowley. And you Newton, you're really choosing to spend your time with him? Although I suppose they did have to replace Aziraphale in their little group after Crowley tossed him aside." 

"Crowley didn't do anything!" Adam shouted at him. Crowley couldn't stop himself from winding and Michael laughed. 

"Oh, he hasn't told you? I suppose it's a good thing he got rid of Aziraphale when he did, though. Don't want him becoming a faggot like Crowley, do we?" Michael grinned as he finished, disgustingly pleased with himself. 

Crowley put his arm around Anathema to stop her from moving over to punch him, something he could tell everyone in the room wanted to do. How Michael ever became head boy Crowley would never know. He was quite possibly the worst person Crowley had ever met, and that was saying something. Even Gabriel looked uncomfortable with what he had said, and he didn't seem to be put off by much. His only valid reason to tell Michael not to make fun of him, after all, had been that he might have been the Hogwarts champion. The room was tense and silent, anyone else aside from the group of them having left during the confrontation. Nobody moved for a minute, even Uriel had stopped flipping pages in her book to stare openly at them, and Crowley was growing more and more uncomfortable. 

"I've had enough of this. Let's go." Anathema said, tossing her hair over her shoulder and practically dragging Crowley back to the entrance, the others following behind them silently. 

"Crowley," Michael called out, and he stopped, rolling his eyes as far back as they could go before turning to face him. "If you do get chosen as the Hogwarts champion, I'd watch your back. You'll probably end up this years casualty." 

Crowley had to literally drag Adam from the room after that, the boy shouting obscenities at Michael and the rest of his friends. Aziraphale looked uncomfortable, but he didn't say anything, and Crowley almost hated him for it. The others were all fuming when they made it out of the hufflepuff common room, the confrontation having weighed down on all of them. Adam and Pepper looked as though they might be separately planning Michael's murder, and Brian looked tempted to turn around and go back in to punch him. Crowley would stop them, if any of them were to actually try anything. Empty insults weren't worth the threat of expulsion. 

"I hate him," Wensleydale said, and everyone agreed with him. "I hate him so much." 

"He's head boy, we can't do anything." Newt said, clearly put out about it.

"He's the worst head boy this school has ever had!" Pepper huffed, though she couldn't safely say she was correct as she'd only been at the school while Michael had been head boy. Nine more months, Crowley reminded himself. Just nine more months. 

"Come on, let's head out. Can't let that dickhead ruin our day, can we?" Crowley told them, trying to get their minds off of what had happened. 

Anathema, clearly picking up on what he was trying to do, nodded quickly in agreement, her glasses falling off with the force of it. Crowley bent down, picking them up for her and, though it was completely unnecessary and he would have poked her in the eye had he not tried so hard, pushed them back on for her. A group of fourth year slytherin girls that were walking past squealed in excitement, and Adam shot them the most entertained look Crowley had ever seen on a child's face, Pepper standing next to him with one that almost mirrored it. He heard a soft aw from behind them and turned to see Brian, who quickly busied himself with pulling Wensleydale over to look at Newt's broom. Everyone was sufficiently distracted except for, it seemed, Anathema. 

She leaned closer, resting her head on his shoulder as they watched the kids. "You okay?" She asked, clearly having moved closer so the others wouldn't get suspicious. 

Crowley wanted to say yes, but he knew that she'd see eight through it, so instead he sighed and poked her in the leg with the handle of his broom. "I will be." 

"Can you two stop being gross so we can go?" Adam asked, then winked. He really wanted to win this stupid bet. 

"Alright, follow me kids! You too, Newt." Crowley said, smiling at gesturing towards the door.

The five of them followed him out in a single file line, Anathema walking beside him, and Crowley felt strangely like a dad. The kids were talking excitedly, Newt joining in when he saw fit, and the beginning of their morning was sufficiently forgotten. Wensleydale madzie a joke about them being like ducks and everyone laughed, including Crowley. He lead them about three quarters of the way to the quidditch pitch before Brian suddenly got an idea. 

"Hey! Race you guys there!" He called, and then he took off running as fast as he physically could. 

"That's not fair!" Pepper shouted back, taking off after him, following quickly by Adam and Wensleydale. 

Anathema and Crowley looked at each other, mischief shining in their eyes, and took off after them, leaving Newt to try and catch up once he realized that he, too, was being included in this race. Crowley had not expected it to be so hard to catch up to a group of children, especially considering he was older and had much, much longer legs, but they were very fast kids, and it took him longer than he would have liked to get even with them. In hindsight, running while holding onto a broom and also having cripplingly low stamina wasn't the best decision he could have made. 

He tumbled into the quidditch pitch at the exact same time as Wensleydale, who had taken a shocking lead for being the last one to start running. Brian and Anathema tied for second, followed by Pepper, then Adam, then Newt. They were all panting and sweating and grinning like idiots, dropping onto the grass to sit and catch their breaths. Anathema gave Crowley a high five when she fell down onto the grass next to him. His sunglasses kept sliding down his nose from the sweat dripping down from his forehead, and eventually he resolved to close his eyes and wipe it all off before putting them back on. 

"Why do you wear those?" Pepper asked, and Crowley froze, just a little. 

"Prescription," He said, not knowing if his nervousness shone through and gave away the lie. "My eyes are really light sensitive." 

She looked like she believed him, though, more than she had when he said he wasn't dating Anathema at least, and shrugged. "Oh, okay." And then she turned back to her conversation with The Them. 

"How the hell are those kids so fast?" Newt panted, sitting down heavily next to Anathema. 

"They're young," She said, stretching her legs out in front of her and smoothing down her skirt. "They've yet to run out of energy like us old folks." 

Crowley scoffed. "Hey, if you two are old what does that make me?"

"Dead." Newt suggested, and Anathema broke down, giggling violently and shooting looks at Crowley every couple seconds. Newt was looking at her as she did, a soft kind of smile on his face, and Crowley started to get the sneaking suspicion that he may have liked her. Good, he should go for it. It would do her some good to have someone to hang around besides him and some children. Not that The Them weren't lovely, but Anathema was almost sixteen. She needed friends who weren't eleven. 

"So how did you two meet, then?" Crowley asked them once Anathema had finally, after a long couple minutes of intense giggling, settled down. 

The two looked at each other before Anathema answered. "Potions. We were working on a project when he learned that one of his ancestors burned one of mine at the stake. It was a very fun conversation." 

"Elaborate." Crowley requested, half out of a desire to seem like a nice person who cared about their family histories and half out of his own general curiosity. Both were pretty selfish reasons, when he thought about it, but sue him. It seemed like an interesting story. 

"So you know Agnes Nutter, right?" Newt said. 

"Well, not personally, but I've heard she's a riot." Anathema swatted him on the shoulder, but it had no real force behind it. 

"Well, the man who burned her at the stake was Witchfinder General Thou-Shall-Not-Commit-Adultery Pulsifer, who happens to be one of my ancestors." Newt explained. 

Crowley, for his part, was mildly impressed, though he couldn't stop himself from thinking of how much Aziraphale would enjoy this conversation. He would love to know all of these things, the history buff that he was. It's a shame he couldn't be there, Crowley thought, before he remembered the confrontation in the hufflepuff common room and how he's said absolutely nothing and just sat by while his friends hurled abuse at him. Thinking about it again left a bitter taste in his mouth, but his brain, determined to punish him for some crime he wasn't aware he'd committed, brought it back up fully, and for a moment Crowley thought he was going to be sick. He wasn't, though, and he turned back to Newt and Anathema as they continued on with their story, seemingly unaware that he'd spaced out for a moment of time. 

"And then we got to talking about the antichrist and all of those problems and Newt said he'd be more than willing to help us look for them, so I figured he should meet you guys." Anathema finished, and Crowley felt quite bad that he didn't listen to the entire middle of that story. Newt seemed like a nice guy, and he always hated ignoring the people he couldn't actually stand. It's why he never let himself fall asleep in divination. Madame Tracy was just too nice to do that to.

"Okay, so your ancestors was a witch hunter?" Crowley asked, and Newt nodded. "And his descendants turned out to be wizards? God, I love that." 

"Descendant, actually. My parents are muggles." Newt said, and Crowley remembered Michael saying that in the common room, a way to try and get to Crowley using his family history. 

"Ah, my mistake. I've already blocked out the entire confrontation with Michael." He explained. He hadn't, but I made Anathema and Newt laugh, so it was worth it. 

"Hey, Crowley!" Brian called, and Crowley turned his attention to The Them who, last time Crowley checked, were talking about their summer plans, apparently already done with school. They had discovered that they all lived in the village of Tadfield and well, wasn't that just wonderful for them. 

"Yeah?" He said.

"Has Adam told you about his dog plan?" Pepper asked. 

Adam had, in fact, spent an hour on the train telling Crowley all about the dog he wanted. Small, but not too small, and was smart enough to learn tricks easily. He was going to steal one from the local animal shelter when he got back home and he was going to name it Dog, because he wasn't creative when it comes to names, he'd told Crowley. The specifics as to how he was planning on stealing the dog and how he was going to explain the sudden presence of the animal to his parents were a little murky, but that was okay, he had nine months to think about it. 

"He has." Crowley said, looking over at Adam, who grinned. 

"Do you want to help us steal the dog?" Adam asked, and once again Crowley's thoughts were pulled to Aziraphale and how he was bound to react in this situation. He'd lecture Crowley for a week about being a bad influence if he heard them and wouldn't even give him the opportunity to answer. He'd have a field day with this, Crowley thought. 

As it were, however, Aziraphale wasn't there, and there was nobody to stop Crowley from answering. "I'd love to. Send me an owl telling me when and I'll be there." 

The Them whooped in triumph and Crowley forced himself to stand up, his knees popping as he did so. His body acted like that of an elderly man and he wasn't even eighteen yet, the traitorous thing, and he groaned a bit. 

"Well, should we get this quidditch show on the road?" Crowley asked, and The Them all nodded vigorously. 

Crowley smiled and walked out into the field, Newt heading over with him. The Them followed them and Anathema stayed over where they were, pulling her school work out of her bag to work, though she did look up frequently to see what they were doing. She had hers and Crowley's phones, and though most of their functions didn't work at the school due to both the lack of wifi and service, they still made perfectly good cameras, and he was more than excited to use it for something like this. 

The Them lined up in front of Crowley and Newt, all practically bouncing with excitement, and Crowley saw another boy their age in the stands. He was sitting by himself, headphones in and the hood of his sweater pulled up over his head, but he was paying attention to what they were doing. Crowley smiled in his direction. It was an action which the kid did not return, but Crowley was okay with that, as long as he knew he'd seen him. Anathema grinned at them from her spot in the grass and waved, the six of them all waving back. Crowley took a moment to think that this entire exchange had been disgustingly but wonderfully like something normal parents would have with their children, before he turned his full attention back to The Them.

"Alright," He said, smiling at them, and all four grinned back. "So this is what we're gonna do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unedited so I apologize for the plethora of mistakes 
> 
> We finally met Newt and Brian! I was planning on introductions them both much earlier but it never felt right until now so here we are. Anathema and Crowley really are my favourite duo right now incase you couldn't tell, and I'm really loving exploring the relationships between Crowley and The Them. Any guesses on who the kid at the end was? I won't tell you if you're right, but I'd love to know your guy's thoughts.
> 
> This ones a lil short sorry but the next one is a really big chapter so be ready. It might take me two days instead of one to make sure that everything happens exactly the way I want it to, so apologies for that, but hopefully it'll be worth the wait. My two original characters are making their appearances next chapter so I apologize for officially becoming one of those people who writes their own characters into their fics, but I love them.
> 
> Questions, comments, theories, concerns, opinions? Leave them in the comments they're my favourite thing to read


	7. The Goblet of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The triwizard champions are revealed, but Crowley has a lot more on his plate to think about than just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to point out any spelling or grammatical errors that you find :)

Crowley felt like he was going to be sick. That was, as it turned out, a very common feeling for him these days, but this time the reason was very real and very soon. It was Halloween which, any other year, would fill him with nothing but delight at the way the castle seemed to come to life with the holiday. As it were, however, this year Halloween also happened to be the day that the champions were chosen for the triwizard tournament, and Crowley was feeling rather anxious. Anathema had spent a large majority of both breakfast and lunch trying to calm down both him and Newt, who had also thrown his name in in a moment of rare bravery. Adam was more excited than anyone else, along with the rest of The Them, who all desperately wanted Crowley or Newt to get chosen. Crowley a little more, Adam had said, but they didn't want Newt to know that.

Aziraphale still wasn't talking to him, and Crowley was starting to lose hope that he'd ever come around. He had stopped spending as much time with Michael and Gabriel though, instead choosing to spend time with the ravenclaw girl Crowley was almost positive was named Hazel and one of her friends, so maybe he was just taking his time. Crowley was just cursed with a lack of patience. That lack of patience was doing him exactly zero favours as he tried to get through his care of magical creatures class. Class time felt like it had been doubled and Shadwell seemed determined to make sure it dragged on as long as possible. He was having them feed another type of insect Crowley could not have cared less about, and the idea of having to put up with Hastur and Ligur was appalling at this point. He dreaded the moment Shadwell told them to get into their groups, and when he finally Crowley had another reason to feel sick. 

"Hey Crawly," Hastur smiled, tossing an arm around his shoulders, and Crowley was incredibly tempted to punch him. "Ready to get started?"

"Actually, Crowley's working with us today." 

Crowley turned and saw Hazel and her friend had been the ones to come to his rescue. He smiled at them gratefully, shaking Hastur's arm off, and he could have laughed at how offended Hastur looked. 

"But Crowley always works with us." He said, and Ligur nodded. 

"You boys seem to have everything figured out on your own, and we could really use Crowley's help, so if you'll excuse us." Possibly Hazel smiled, grabbing Crowley's hand and pulling him towards their work station. He could have cried from gratitude. His emotions were all over the place, he thought. He really needed to get it together. 

"Thank you," Crowley sighed, leaning heavily on the workstation the girls were using. "I did not want to spend the rest of the class with them. Especially not today." 

Probably Hazel smiled and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "No problem. I'm Hazel, by the way. Hazel Jones. Incase you didn't know."

"Your name is Hazel! I was so sure I was getting it wrong!" Crowleh said excitedly. 

She laughed. "Good job, you remembered. This is Jane, she's from Beauxbatons." 

"Hello." Jane said, holding out her hand for Crowley to shake. 

He took it, smiling kindly at her. "Nice to meet you." 

"You put your name in for champion, no?" Jane asked. 

Crowley nodded. "Yeah. Don't know if I'm regretting that or not today." 

Hazel laughed, grabbing the bag of food pellets they were supposed to be feeding the insects Shadwell had given them. Crowley did not find the project very appealing, and if he could have just sat to the side and done nothing he would have, but he needed these marks. 

"I feel you. We both put our names in a couple days ago." Hazel said. 

Crowley clocked his head a bit, trying to recall if he'd seen them out their names in, but nothing was coming to mind. "I don't remember seeing you do that." 

"That's because we didn't make a spectacle of it, unlike some people." Hazel teased. 

"Ugh I know, Gabriel was the worst for doing that." He played along, fully intending to wink at the end before remembering that neither of them would be able to see it through his sunglasses. 

They both laughed and Hazel handed him the bag, letting him have a turn with feeding. Crowley stared down at the insects with disgust, throwing a handful of food in haphazardly, only looking on with more disgust ss they all seemingly battled for the food. He threw in a couple more handfuls before handing the bag off to Jane, content to say he'd done his work for the day. 

"Well, looks like I'm competing against you to even get a chance to be champion." Hazel said when Crowley came to lean on the workstation next to her. 

"I suppose so." He said, smiling at her a bit.

"Well then," Hazel straightened up and held her hand out towards him. "May the best man win." 

Crowley took it, grasping firmly as they shook hands. "Or woman." 

She grinned. "Or woman." 

Jane was cooing at the insects when Crowley turned his attention back to her, and his nose wrinkled in disgust once again. The food bag next to her was empty, and when Shadwell walked past them he looked at her with approval. Crowley smiled from some sort of sadistic pleasure when Shadwell stopped to yell at Hastur and Ligur for how poor a job they were doing without Crowley there to help them. While Crowley wasn't exceptionally great at any class at all outside of herbology, he did happen to be better than the two of them at anything academic. Hastur had almost been sorted into ravenclaw, he had said the sorting hat wanted to put him there before it decided on slytherin, and Crowley had never heard an almost placement that made less sense. He himself had been considered for hufflepuff and Aziraphale had almost been sorted into both ravenclaw and gryffindor before the hat had put him in hufflepuff. Thinking about Aziraphale made Crowley feel exceptionally bitter. 

"Hey," Hazel said, sliding up next to him and resting her arm on his shoulder as they watched Shadwell yell at Hastur and Ligur. Most of the class was watching at this point, the scolding they were getting far more interesting than their own projects. "I have a question." 

"Shoot." Crowley said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye briefly before turning his attention back to Shadwell. 

"Is Anathema your girlfriend?" She asked. 

"Why do you wanna know?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow at her suspiciously.

"Don't worry," She grinned, knocking her shoulder into his. She was a rather tall girl, maybe three or four inches shorter than Crowley. He was relatively tall himself, so it wasn't something he was used to. "This isn't about the bet." 

"God, has that stupid bet spread to ravenclaw too?" Crowley groaned, tossing his head back as he complained. 

Hazel laughed. "The entire school is in on it at this point. You two aren't exactly subtle." 

"You still haven't answered my question." Crowley told her. 

She smiled a little sheepishly, blushing as she swiped her hair over her shoulder. "Uh, I just wanted to know if I could ask her out." 

"Oh, God," He laughed, turning to face her. "Please. Please do. She's constantly complaining about how lonely she is." 

Hazel laughed, the sound positively delighted, and Crowley found himself laughing right along with her. Hastur, clearly thinking they were laughing at the scolding be had just finished receiving, flipped him off from across the room, causing Shadwell to start going off on him again, much to Crowley's delight. Shadwell was still yelling when the bell sounded across the grounds, clearly he was on edge that day, and Crowley, Hazel, and Jane were still giggling all the way to the great hall. The anxiety in Crowley's stomach had settled a bit, instead replaced by a contentedness that was starting to become commonplace in his life. 

Hazel and Jane walked with him over to the slytherin table when they entered the great hall. Anathema smiled at him when he saw her and both he and Jane shot knowing looks at Hazel, who flushed and walked over to the ravenclaw table quickly. Jane smiled and waved at him as she followed after her. She didn't say much, more quiet than Crowley was used to, but she was incredibly nice. As was Hazel, when he thought about it. He didn't know why it had taken so long to get to know her.

"I see class was good?" Anathema commented when Crowley sat down beside her. Her eyes were following Hazel as she sat down at her own table and Crowley smirked knowingly.

"Yeah, made some friends." He said, and Anathema turned her attention back to him. 

"That's good." She said, smiling, but it was clear to him that her thoughts were elsewhere. His were too, he thought as he cast his eyes over to the hufflepuff table and watched Newt and Brian try and shove each other out of their seats, but even their distant thoughts seemed to be in different places. 

Adam got to the table not a moment later, sitting down directly next to Crowley instead of across from him like he usually would.

Crowley raised an eyebrow as he looked down at him. "Everything okay kid?" 

Adam didn't answer right away, instead turning and hugging him tightly, burying his face in his chest. Crowley brought his arms up around him instinctively, looking over at Anathema, who was staring back at him with equal concern, for a quick second. Adam wasn't crying, but he was shaking, and Crowley ran his hand through his hair gently to calm him, rocking them side to side a little bit. Anathema got up and moved to his other side, leaving her bag on the seat she occupied before, and gently placed a hand on his back. 

"Do you wanna talk about it?" She asked gently. 

Adam shook his head violently and squeezed Crowley tighter. Crowley and Anathema met eyes over his head, both equally concerned, and Crowley held him just a little bit tighter, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to Adam's hair. Some of the tension seemed to be dropping from his shoulders, which was a good sign, so Crowley continued to run his hand through the boys curls and rock him. He didn't particularly know what to do with upset children, his parents had never comforted him when he'd been upset when he was younger, but what he was doing currently seemed to be a decent enough job if Adam's slowly lessening shaking was anything to go by. 

"I know you don't wanna talk about it right now," He said, voice muffled and quiet from his mouth being pressed into Adam's hair. "But I'm here. Whenever you wanna talk." 

Adam squeezed him a little bit tighter in thanks, holding on for a couple more seconds before pulling away and wiping at his eyes. He still wasn't crying, but he looked as though he were about to burst into tears at any second. "Sorry." He mumbled. 

"Don't worry about it." Crowley smiled softly, reaching over and ruffling his hair, and Adam smiled a tiny bit in return. 

Anathema patted Adam on the back, the action a little awkward, and moved back to her original seat on Crowley's other side, though the anxiety didn't leave her eyes as she looked at Adam. He leaned heavily against Crowley, eating bites of his food but refusing to move away from him. Crowley wrapped his arm around him for some added comfort, which Adam seemed to appreciate, and his inability to use his right arm and eat his dinner because his left hand was useless was worth it. 

"Do you think you made the right choice?" Adam asked quietly, looking up at Crowley with wide eyes. He glanced over at the goblet of fire, and Crowley was starting to get it. "By putting your name in?" 

"Hey," Crowley pulled him closer to him, drawing his attention away from the goblet. "I thought you were excited about me maybe getting picked?" 

Adam sighed. "I am. I just don't want you to get hurt. It's supposed to be dangerous." 

Crowley scoffed. "Danger? I laugh in the face of danger." 

"That's a lion king reference." Adam said, sounding both amused and unimpressed at the same exact time. 

"Don't call me out like that," Crowley mumbled, and Adam laughed. "And you need to stop worrying. We don't even know if I'm gonna get picked, tons of people put their names in." 

Adam nodded and wrapped his arm around Crowley, squeezing him in an awkward side hug. Crowley turned to look at Anathema, who looked fond but still anxious. She was clearly just as worried about the possibility of him getting picked as Adam was. The entire situation was that much more real now, he thought. The great hall was full of anxious energy, some of it made worse by students having to sit at their respective house tables. Crowley looked over at Wensleydale at the ravenclaw table. He kept glancing towards Brian and Newt at the hufflepuff table. Pepper was alone at the gryffindor table as well, but she seemed to be dealing with it better, shoveling her food into her mouth and glancing back up at the goblet every few seconds. As much as she hated violence, she had been the most excited to see who would be each schools champion. 

Crowley couldn't stop himself from looking towards the hufflepuff table and, more specifically, Aziraphale. He was sat with Uriel, though neither seemed to be saying much, and he was so anxious that it was practically radiating off of him. Crowley could tell, even from so far away. He knew him better than anyone. He was practically vibrating in his seat, looking up at the goblet every few seconds, much like Pepper was doing, though she was much less anxious. Part of Crowley ached to go over and comfort him, make sure he was alright and reassure him that everything was going to turn out okay, but he reminded himself that this break in their friendship had been his idea and that he'd given Aziraphale the responsibility of ending it. He didn't want to see him, at least not right now, and his presence would probably only serve to make him more anxious, though he wasn't quite sure what he was anxious about. Perhaps he was worried for Gabriel, much like Adam and Anathema were for him. It would make sense the the two were rather good friends after all. 

"Hey," Crowley said, turning his attention back to Adam to get his mind off of Aziraphale. "Did you know that Anathema's got a crush?"

Adam's eyes lit up with mischief and they both turned to look at Anathema, who was blushing slightly, sputtering at the accusation. 

"I do not." She huffed, pushing up her glasses. 

"She does," Crowley said, smirking at her. "On a ravenclaw named Hazel." 

"Ooooo." Adam teased, and Anathema went redder.

"It is not a crush," She defended. "I know nothing about her. I just think she's pretty." 

"If it wasn't a crush you wouldn't be blushing so much." Adam pointed out, and Crowley practically cackled at the look on Anathema's face. 

"For what it's worth," He said. "I think you should get to know her. I can introduce you, if you'd like." 

Anathema lit up, smiling at him hopefully. "Would you?" 

"Course." Crowley said, and her smile grew. 

"Totally a crush." Adam said, smiling delightedly, and Anathema chucked a bread roll at him. He caught it and took a bite, looking all too proud or himself. Crowley was raising this kid right, he thought, smiling contentedly to himself. 

He went to finally take a bite of his food when it disappeared, leaving the plate as spotless as it had been before. The Almighty stood up and the hall went deathly silent, the room quiet enough that you could hear a pin drop. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, the room blanketed by a heavy mixture of anxiety and excitement that fell down over them. Even the professors seemed to have the same energy about them, all looking at the students and the goblet with intrigue. Crowley wondered if maybe they had been taking bets like some of the students had been. Anathema grabbed his hand under the table and he turned, squeezing it and smiling at her. She scooted a little closer, as did Adam. Crowley seemed to be the support in this situation, which was odd, considering he was the one with his name in the goblet. 

"Students," The Almighty began, and Crowley sat up a little straighter. Anathema squeezed his hand. "The goblet is ready to make its decision. I will read the names of the champions from each school once it's given to me. The student named will please stand up and walk over and along the professors table and into the next room." She gestured to an open door on the other side of the table. 

The normally blue flames in the goblet suddenly turned red, sparking angrily and producing crackling noises. Adam scooted a little closer to Crowley. A piece of paper shot out of the flames and as quickly as it had begun it stopped, the giblet returning to normal. The Almighty caught the paper like it was standard, unfolding it to read it out. 

"The champion from Ilvermorny is," Crowley could see all of the Ilvermorny students in the room stiffen and straighten up, clearly eager to see who would be named. Even Anathema did, just a little. "Gabriel Hill!" 

The gryffindor table erupted into life, the students of that house clapping and cheering loud enough to almost overpower the other three houses. The three of them clapped as well, despite the strong dislike they all had for Gabriel, and Crowley watched as he got up. He reached over the table to high five Michael, grinning widely as his eyes scanned around the room, moving over to the professors table. Crowley saw Shadwell discreetly slide Madame Tracy some money as Gabriel walked past. The room was still full of cheering when Gabriel stepped into the next room, and The Almighty raised her hand to single silence. Everyone complied. The fire in the goblet turned red again and spit out another piece of paper that The Almighty caught, unfolding it to read off again. 

"The champion from Beauxbatons is," Crowley huffed a bit, his anxiety spiking. It seemed like the Hogwarts champion would be called last. Typical. Anathema squeezed his hand in support. "Jane Paiement!" 

The ravenclaws were the ones to clap the loudest this time, though Crowley contributed greatly to the noise with his own clapping and whooping. He watched Jane as she stood, a bright grin on her dark face, and she leaned over to hug Hazel quickly. She caught Crowley's eye and smiled even wider, if that were possible, waving at him a bit as she started her own walk to the other room. The ravenclaws continued to cheer until she was well into the other room, their clapping ringing out in the great hall. Crowley could understand it. Their house very rarely got anything like this, it was almost always gryffindor. Another house deserved to have the possibility of glory for once. Shadwell slid Madame Tracy some more money. The Almighty called for silence again as the goblet once again turned red. It took longer this time, and Crowley sat up straighter, bouncing in his seat as he waited for the name to be read off. He was sure he was going to suffocate from holding his breath by the time the goblet finally spit out a piece of parchment. 

"The champion from Hogwarts is," A general excited energy fell across the entire room, Hogwarts students more eager than any to know their champion. Anathema was holding onto Crowley's hand so tightly he was sure it would break. Crowley held his breath, staring intently at The Almighty. "Anthony J Crowley!" 

Crowley didn't think he had ever heard do much noise. The great hall was in uproar, the school forgetting their hatred of both slytherins and Crowley in general for a moment, instead united in excitement over his getting chosen. Anathema hugged him tightly, laughing as she did and crying a little bit. Adam jumped up onto the bench, wrapping Crowley in a hug of his own when he stood up. Crowley couldn't stop smiling. He was more terrified and anxious than he'd ever been in his life, but he was also more ecstatic. The entire school cheering for him and only him was an experience he knew he wouldn't have again, and he basked in it as he walked along the floor between the slytherin and ravenclaw tables. Hazel and Wensleydale both whooped as he passed them, grinning and clapping so hard their hands were going red. Pepper, Brian, and Newt were all excitedly clapping as well, Pepper bouncing up and down where she stood as she caught his eye.

Aziraphale was clapping too, Crowley noticed, and the sight warmed him inside even more. As against the entire thing as he'd been, Aziraphale was still excited for him. Maybe there was some hope for the two of them after all. The Almighty smiled at him as he stepped past her, the most reaction he'd ever gotten from her, and Crowley couldn't stop himself from grinning right back. Anathema cupped her hands around her mouth as she cheered, winking at Crowley when he looked at her. Madame Tracy grinned brightly up at him when he walked past her and Shadwell, rather angrily at that, slid her even more money. Crowley felt relatively proud to be helping her to earn more money. 

The cheering continued as he stepped into the other room and Gabriel and Jane, who weren't talking to each other, both looked up at him when he entered the room. Jane gasped when she saw him, smiling brightly and rushing over. Crowley thought she might have been going in to hug him, but instead she just grabbed both of his hands and grinned. 

"Congratulations." She said, squeezing his hands. 

Crowley smiled at her. "Congratulations to you too." 

Gabriel got up from the chair he was sitting on and walked over to them, his hands in the pockets of his robes. It was all overly casual, but Crowley could see the glint of mischief in his eyes.

"Congratulations." He echoed, holding out his hand for Crowley to shake. 

He eyed him warily before taking his hand, shaking it quickly and pulling his away soon after. "Same to you." 

"I know we haven't gotten off on the right foot, Crowley," Gabriel said, and he had the guts to look at all apologetic. "But I do hope that the two of us might grow to be friends." 

Crowley snorted. "After what happened last time I was in a room with you? Not likely." 

Gabriel winced. "I agree that wasn't the best situation, but you have to know that I don't agree with what Michael was saying. The goblet wouldn't choose a person like he described you to be, now would it?" 

Crowley didn't believe a word that was coming out of his mouth, but he nodded anyway and turned back to Jane, who was looking between the two of them with strong confusion in her eyes. Crowley supposed he'd have to explain the whole Gabriel situation to her and Hazel if they were going to be hanging around more, and he rather hoped they would be. They were both lovely girls, and he needed an excuse to mercilessly tease Anathema about her oh so obvious crush on Hazel, and Hazel about hers on Anathema. He couldn't do that if they weren't friends. 

The cheering in the great hall had slowly but surely died out and after a moment The Almighty stepped into the room, flanked by a couple of Hogwarts teachers and the headmasters of the other two schools. Both rushed over to their students to shower them in congratulations and Crowley stepped to the side, allowing Jane to converse with her headmaster in some semblance of privacy.

The Almighty stepped up beside Crowley, her hands clasped behind her back, and she smiled at him again. "Congratulations Anthony." 

He held back from wincing at the use of his first name. "Thank you." 

"I trust that you're going to do Hogwarts proud." She said, eyeing him warily. 

He nodded, swallowing hard. "I'll do my best." 

The Almighty smiled and nodded again before calling the attention of the rest of the rooms occupants to her. "Congratulations to all of our champions! You've all been chosen for this tremendous honour and we all trust that you'll do your schools proud. The first task will take place on the twentieth of November. These tasks are designed to test you in all sorts of different ways, so be prepared for anything going into this. You may not get help from any of your teachers, though general advice is allowed, and you're allowed to get any help you wish from your fellow students and, yes, even each other." 

"Why would we want to help each other?" Gabriel scoffed, and Crowley was grateful that his sunglasses hid his eye roll from the room.

"Champions have helped each other out in past tournaments with the hope of making things fairer. I'm not saying you have to, Mr Hill, I'm just letting you know that it's allowed. Expect to be pulled out of a couple of your classes in the coming weeks, for there are many things that need to be done before the tournament starts. Go back to your houses, now. We don't want to take away their opportunity to party." The Almighty dismissed them, and they all headed for the door. 

"Congratulations, Crowley." Madame Tracy said, lightly placing her hand on his arm and smiling at him as he walked past her. 

He smiled back. "Thanks, Madame Tracy." 

Shadwell followed close behind her as she left and Jane stepped up to him next, smiling widely. "May the best man win." She said, echoing his words to Hazel from earlier, and he grinned. 

"Or woman." He repeated, and it was her turn to grin.

"Or woman." She agreed, grabbing his hand and squeezing it before practically skipping out of the room. 

Gabriel shot him a look Crowley couldn't quite decipher before he too stepped out of the room, Crowley following close behind, though he couldn't see him anywhere once he himself made it out into the hall. It seemed like he had disappeared in a matter of seconds. He did, however, see someone else, and he felt his stomach drop a little bit. Aziraphale was pacing up and down the hallway, hands behind his back and looking decidedly more anxious than he had been in the great hall. He breathed in sharply when he met Crowley's eye across the hall and rushed over. 

"Crowley." He breathed, coming to a stop in front of him. 

"Aziraphale." He replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

"Can we talk?" Aziraphale asked, and Crowley was so happy about it he could have cried. 

He didn't, though, and instead he just nodded. "Yeah. Course." 

Aziraphale seemed to breathe a sigh of relief before turning around and heading towards a different hallway, the one to the hufflepuff common room, Crowley realized as he followed after him, though they didn't go all the way to the door. Instead they rounded a corner into another, shorter hallway, stopping at what seemed like a dead end. Aziraphale turned around to face him, and Crowley was struck with the sudden realization that this was the closest they'd been in over a month. He'd missed him more than he was willing to say. They stood in silence for a long, drawn out moment, neither sure what they wanted to say. Crowley crossed his arms uncomfortably. Aziraphale took a deep breath.

"Congratulations." He said, and Crowley scoffed.

"You didn't ask me to talk just so you could congratulate me, Aziraphale." He said bitterly. 

"No, no you're right," Aziraphale smoothed his robes nervously, not looking at Crowley as he did it. "I wanted to apologize. You were right." 

"About which part?" Crowley pressed. He was being a bit of a dick, he knew, but he deserved it after how awful Aziraphale had been for a while. Sue him.

Aziraphale looked a little unsure of himself. "All of it. But particularly the part where you said I didn't believe what I was saying. I didn't. I was wrong, about all of it, and I need you to believe me, Crowley." 

"Then why did you say it?" Crowley asked. He dug his nails into his arms through his robes, pulling his arms tighter around himself. 

"Michael." Aziraphale said. He was silent after that, still not looking at him. 

Crowley laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "Michael? You're kidding, that's your reasoning? If you're just gonna spit bullshit I'm gonna go." He turned to leave, already having wasted enough of his time, and Aziraphale called out after him. 

"Crowley, wait!" Crowley turned around, crossing his arms again as he stared intently at him, clearly telling him to get on with it. Aziraphale sighed. "Look, there's things I haven't told you, things I haven't told anyone, and Michael found them out. He found out all of it and, and I was scared. They're things I didn't want people to know and he was using them against me." 

"He was blackmailing you?" Crowley asked, some of the bitterness dropping from his tone. 

Aziraphale nodded. "We both know how much he hates you, and I don't know what he's thinking you have to believe me I don't, but he wanted to get me away from you. He doesn't trust you, and he knew I wouldn't just up and stop talking to you, so he wanted to make sure that you hated me instead. He gave me a truth potion and forced me to tell him things and then he used them against me and I'm so sorry for all of the awful things I said to you Crowley but I was so scared and I-"

Crowley couldn't take it anymore. He walked the few steps to the other side of the hall quickly and pulled Aziraphale into a hug. He felt him freeze, unsure of what to do, and Crowley realized that he'd never hugged him before. He never really been a hugger, before Anathema and Adam, and he was probably making him uncomfortable. He was about to pull away when Aziraphale wrapped his own arms around his shoulders, resting his chin on Crowley's shoulder. He curled his fingers into the fabric of Crowley's robes and breathed in deeply. He was shaking, just a bit, and Crowley pulled him a little bit closer, closing his eyes and taking his own deep breath. 

"I really am sorry, Crowley," Aziraphale said quietly. "Truly, I am. I was just so scared that what he knew would get out and-" 

Crowley shushed him. "It's okay, angel. I forgive you."

"Oh, thank you. I don't know what I would have done if you stayed mad at me." Aziraphale shoved his face into the crook of Crowley's neck, breathing in deeply a couple of times. 

Crowley felt a little sick when he thought about what Michael did. He forced Aziraphale to tell him things he was this scared about people finding out just to make him be mean to Crowley, and for what? Because he didn't want him around, to make sure he had less friends? Because all he had effectively done is terrified Aziraphale and made Crowley miserable for a month. It wasn't exactly the grand evil scheme he seemed to think it was. 

"I was never mad." Crowley said, and Aziraphales entire body shook, a half sob half laugh forcing its way out of his throat. 

Crowley could feel the shoulder of his robes getting wet, and he pulled Aziraphale in tighter, rubbing small circles on his back. He seemed to be comforting a lot of people today, though he didn't mind. The two held onto each other for a while longer, neither quite ready to let go yet. Crowley really should be getting back to his common room, join the party and let people shower him with the congratulations he was sure to receive, but he didn't want to leave Aziraphale, not right now. He heard a soft aw the click of a phone camera and opened his eyes, coming face to face with Newt and Brian, Newt with his phone still raised. He let go of Aziraphale, who looked at him questioningly before turning around and freezing a bit. 

"Newt. Brian," Crowley said. "What are you two doing?" 

"Nothing." Newt said, trying to pretend he didn't have his phone out and that he hadn't just taken a photo of them. 

"We were gonna sneak into the slytherin common room to see you." Brian explained. Newt elbowed him in the ribs. 

"I'm gonna fucking kill you." Crowley said simply, and both boys grinned. 

"Sounds good." Newt said. 

"See you in the common room!" Brian waved, and the two took off running in the direction of the slytherin common room.

Crowley sighed and laughed at the same time, rubbing at his eyes under his sunglasses. Aziraphale smiled at him. "I suppose you should be getting to your friends?" 

"We should," Crowley corrected, tossing his arm around Aziraphale's shoulders and riding him in the direction Newt and Brian had run off in. "Come on, angel. I have some people to introduce you to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is the big chapter is finally here! A lot went down this chapter, but things are finally starting to make sense. I hope you like Hazel and Jane because they're my girls and they're gonna be sticking around here for a while. What do you think Michael is up to? Was Gabriel being honest when he said he didn't agree with him? Let me know what you're thinking. Questions, comments, concerns, theories? Comment them, they fuel my very limited will to live.
> 
> I'm thinking that I may change my update schedule to every other day instead of every day. It just seems to work better and it gives me time to make sure that all of the chapters are well done without stressing myself out, but I don't want to disappoint you guys by making you wait longer. Let me know if this is something you're okay with or not or if you really don't care, I would greatly appreciate the feedback :)


	8. Snake Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The slytherins really liked to party, and for some reason the excitement of it all made Crowley decide to reveal something he'd never revealed before, even if it is just to one person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to point out any spelling or grammatical errors that you find :)

The slytherin common room was bursting with life when Crowley and Aziraphale got there. People started cheering the moment he stepped in, though none louder than The Them, who all seemed to have found a way to get into the common room without getting yelled at by a teacher or a perfect. Newt had made it too and was grinning happily at him, almost as though he was trying to trick Crowley into forgetting about the photo. It was a clever scheme but alas, he was the first person Crowley headed for, the photo not forgotten at all. Anathema, who was sitting next to him, lit up at the sight of him and got up immediately to hug him.

"I'm so excited for you!" She practically squealed, squeezing him tightly. She was standing on her toes to reach him and Crowley bent his knees a bit to ease the struggle for her. 

"One step closer to finding the antichrist." He mused, hugging her back equally as tightly. 

Anathema spotted Aziraphale over his shoulder and gasped, letting go of Crowds and immediately going to hug him instead. Crowley took it as an opportunity to move over to Newt, plopping down on the couch next to him. Newt looked nervous, clearly unsure of what to expect, and Crowley leaned a bit closer. 

"Send me that photo, will you?" He asked. Newt lit up, grinning excitedly as he nodded. 

Crowley smiled at him and not a minute later was covered in over excited eleven year olds. Adam and Pepper both jumped up onto the couch and threw themselves over him, Pepper knocking the air out of his lungs when she landed on his chest. Wensleydale sat on the back of the couch and leaned his arms on his head. Brian just stood there with a shit eating grin and whipped out his phone to take a photo of them. Crowley, who was blanketed by children, was helpless to stop him. 

"Aziraphale!" Adam said excitedly, climbing off of Crowley to rush over to the other boy. "You're back!" 

Aziraphale smiled at him. "I am indeed." 

"It's about time." Anathema mumbled, sitting down in the very limited space beside Crowley on the couch. 

She ended up sitting half on his lap, but he didn't really mind. Pepper and Wensleydale moved over, giving the two of them some room, and Anathema kicked her feet up across Newt's lap, leaning further back on Crowley. He draped one of his hands over her legs, using the other to try and shove Pepper off of the arm of the couch. He caught Aziraphale's eye and smiled, watching as he talked very animatedly with Adam about something he couldn't hear over the roar of noise in the room. The Almighty had been right, they were definitely using this as an excuse to party, and none of the teachers could really do anything to stop them. 

"Crawly!" Hastur drawled, draping himself over the back of the couch and into his personal space. Crowley really wanted to punch him. 

"Crowley." He corrected, and like always Hastur ignored him. 

"Triwizard champion," He whistled. "Impressive. Think your daddy's gonna be proud of you yet?"

"Fuck off Hastur." Crowley growled. 

Anathema moved her legs from Newt's lap and straightened up, but Newt didn't seem to notice or care. He was too busy talking with The Them, minus Adam, who was still talking with Aziraphale. She glared at Hastur, her fingers curling into the fabric of Crowley's robes where her hand was resting on his shoulder. 

"I think someone oughta tell him, don't you?" Ligur, who Crowley hadn't previously noticed, said, coming up to stand beside him. Anathema moved to stand and Crowley quickly clasped his hand onto her waist, keeping her where she was. 

"Good thing I sent my dad a letter about it," Hastur smirked. "He'll let Asmodeus know real quick." 

"Are you two done?" Anathema asked sharply. "Because we were kind of in the middle of something." 

"Yeah? And what would that be?" Ligur asked. 

"I don't see how that's any of your business." She defended. Crowley squeezed her waist a little tighter. 

"Come on, we're just curious. You should ditch this guy anyway. Come spend some time with us." Hastur suggested, a ugly smile on his face. 

Anathema scoffed. "In your dreams, frog boy. Why don't you go eat some flies, yeah?"

Hastur looked taken aback by her comment. He wasn't used to people talking to him like that. Unlike Crowley, he used his parents status as former death eaters to make others fear him. Ligur did the same, and was also clearly unused to someone having the guts to say something like that to him, especially in the sharp way Anathema said it. Crowley had to bite back a laugh at the look on their faces. Hastur glared at them for a moment before stalking off, grumbling under his breath about women and how rude they were. Crowley and Anathema both laughed once they were out of earshot. 

"God, did you see his face?" Anathema asked. 

"That was amazing," Crowley laughed. "I love you for that." 

"You love me for everything." She challenged, and Crowley laughed again. 

"Sure, let's say that." He said. 

Anathema swatted him on the arm and then wrapped her arms around him, resting her temple against the side of his head. Adam bounded over to the couch and forced himself between Newt and Crowley, leaving Aziraphale to stand by himself off to the side. Crowley grinned at him and waved him over, though he wasn't sure where he'd be able to sit. Their couch was a little bit crowded as it was. 

"Guys, guys, photo!" Newt said excitedly, pulling out his phone and waving it around a bit. The Them all squished themselves into the frame, and Crowley grabbed Aziraphale by the collar to drag him in as well. He leaned over the back of the couch, his cheek pressed against Crowley's to be fully seen, and Crowley could see Anathema shoot them a look out of the corner of his eye. He ignored her and grinned when Newt held up the phone, letting them all squish in and move around more before taking about fifty photos, just to be sure they all looked good. 

Aziraphale's skin was warm against his, and Crowley was torn between hating the feeling and never wanting it to leave. Aziraphale moved his arm to brace himself on Crowley's shoulder and he just about had a breakdown, so unused to being so close to him. Aziraphale was grinning, and when Crowley looked at him out of the corner of his eye he found himself unable to stop himself from smiling as well. 

"Jesus christ Newt, how many photos do you have to take?" Brian asked, and everyone laughed. Newt snapped one more photo before lowering his phone and letting everyone move away from each other. Crowley missed the heat of Aziraphale's skin against his almost as soon as it was gone. 

"How are you always so cold, my dear?" Aziraphale asked, rubbing at his cheek a bit. 

"It comes with living in a dungeon." Crowley shrugged, grinning at him. 

"Looks like we're buying you sweaters for Christmas." Newt teased.

Crowley scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I'm not that cold." 

"You really are," Anathema said. She brought her hands up and rubbed his cheeks. "It's like you're cold blooded or something." 

"You don't have to sit on him." Newt suggest. 

Anathema looked offended at the idea. "Nonsense. He's the comfiest spot here." 

Crowley groaned, flushing a bit, and dropped his face onto her shoulder, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. The others all laughed, save for Aziraphale. Crowley could pick his laugh out of a choir of hundreds, and he didn't hear it. Anathema brushed her fingers through his hair and he raised his head a bit, looking at Aziraphale, who was smiling, but looked rather uncomfortable. Crowley grinned at him, and he smiled back, easing some of the anxiety that had started to pool in Crowley's chest. The party continued to rage on around them, nobody really caring much about him after the first half an hour, and the group of them stayed in their own respective little corner. Crowley and Newt managed to make enough room on the couch for Aziraphale to sit between them, though the three of them were rather squished. Crowley couldn't say he minded.

Sneaking The Them and Newt back into their common rooms once the party had finally started wind down turned out to be a challenge. Pepper and Wensleydale made the journeys to theirs by themselves, the gryffindor and ravenclaw common rooms too far away for all of them to do without increasing their risk of getting caught, but the hufflepuff common room wasn't as far, and so six of them made their way down the halls.

"This was incredibly irresponsible." Aziraphale hissed under his breath as they walked. 

"And yet you still came." Crowley pointed out, shooting him a pointed look out of the corner of his eye. 

"None of the teachers will even care," Brian said, a little louder than any of them would have liked him to be. "Not if we tell them we were congratulating Crowley." 

"Then Crowley will be in even more trouble." Aziraphale whispered sharply. 

"Angel, it's fine. Don't worry." Crowley assured him, reaching out to put a hand on his arm.

Aziraphale froze, and for a second Crowley was afraid that that had been a poor choice, that he shouldn't have done that, that Aziraphale still didn't trust him enough for that, but then he smiled, and Crowley forgot all of his worries in seconds. 

"I don't want you getting into trouble." Aziraphale said firmly, and Crowley opted out of trying to stay his opinion on the situation. 

He was always rather determined and very set in his ways, it was one of the things Crowley had always loved about him, and once he landed on an idea it was almost impossible to convince him of anything else. To argue with him in that state was a fruitless endeavor. 

"I won't." He said, with no real fact or evidence to support it, but Aziraphale still seemed to believe him, and he smiled before continuing on. 

Anathema shot him a look when she fell into step beside him, and though he didn't quite know what it meant he decided he was going to be offended and flipped her off. The exasperated yet fond eye roll she gave him told him that it had been the right decision. She grabbed his hand, swinging it a bit as they walked, and Crowley laughed faintly. It wasn't loud enough to draw any attention to them from anyone besides those that knew they were there, but Aziraphale still turned around to shush him, and Crowley was positive he imagined the way he glanced down at his and Anathema's joint hands and how his smile fell slightly. 

He couldn't have done anything but imagine it, because Aziraphale had no reason to look sad in relation to him and Anathema and their hand holding. It wouldn't make sense, he had to have been imagining it. A tiny part of him wanted to believe that it was anything else and he mentally beat that part of him with a broom, cursing at it for ever daring to rear its ugly head in the first place. The gay goblin could stay away. It wasn't welcome in his home, or in his head. He squeezed Anathema's hand a bit, and she squeezed back, not knowing why she did it, and gave him a reasonably concerned look. He grinned at her, doing his best to make it look as convincing as possible, and she very clearly did not buy it, but she smiled back anyways for the sake of appearances. 

The hufflepuff common room wasn't actually that far away, and it especially wasn't when you were sneaking towards it in the middle of the night while high on the energy of the party you'd just left, and the group found themselves outside of the door in no time. Brian wrapped his arms around Crowley's stomach in a tight hug and he did his best to hug him back. Honestly, he had never really been a hugging person before, but the lot of them sure seemed like they were trying their best to make sure he turned into one by constantly subjecting him to affection that he wasn't used to receiving. It was working incredibly well, all things considered.

"Night Crowley." Newt said, clapping him on the back as he strode through the door that Aziraphale had opened while they weren't paying attention. 

Brian gave him one last squeeze around the middle before walking over to Adam, the two of them performing some obnoxiously specific and highly interesting handshake Crowley hadn't been able to figure out when they tried to show it to him before saying goodnight to them all and following Newt through the door. Crowley turned to Aziraphale, who looked like he was unsure what he should do. Crowley decided for him and stepped forward, laying his hand on his shoulder and pulling him into a quick hug that Aziraphale returned enthusiastically. It wasn't much, hardly even ten seconds, but it was enough to make Crowley's skin crawl in some sort of pleasant way he didn't get when he hugged any of the others. Aziraphale was very nice to hug, Crowley thought. He was soft and always warm and it was probably just him appreciating it. His reasoning sounded like bullshit even to his own brain, but he ignored it like he always did. 

"Night, angel." He said, pulling away from him, and the smile Aziraphale gave him in return was so unbearably soft that Crowley honestly could have died right then and there and he didn't think he would have minded. 

"Goodnight, my dear." Aziraphale said, patting him lightly on the chest before turning and following the others into the common room, the door swinging shut behind him with a finishing click. Crowley just stood for a second, smiling contentedly to himself, before he was pulled out of it by Adam's snickering. 

He turned around to glare at him, and Adam smirked. "Did you forget about us?" 

Crowley didn't know what to say in response, so he shoved him instead. "Shut up." He mumbled, and it was rather pathetic, which set Anathema off laughing at him. 

He glared at her as well, and she grabbed his hand, pulling him along with her as the three started on their way back to their own common room. Crowley tossed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side, which she responded to by wrapping her own arm around his waist and curling her body closer. It was a somewhat awkward way to walk, he would admit, but neither really complained, suffering through it for a reason neither of them really knew. Adam yawned, which caused both Crowley and Anathema to yawn, and the three of them were stuck in a vicious cycle of continuous yawning as they made their way back to the common room. They weren't being particularly careful about trying not to get caught, though Crowley suspected that if a teacher did find them walking around they wouldn't get into any trouble. Not tonight, at least. 

Adam excused himself to his room almost the second they stepped foot back in the common room, pushing through the party, which was still going though had calmed down a bit, to get there. Crowley followed after him, earning some whistles and jests from some other slytherin boys as he dragged Anathema along with him. They laughed to each other as they walked, collapsing down onto Crowley's bed once they got there. None of the other boys in his room had left the party yet, which worked perfectly well for them, as neither was willing to part just yet, and they couldn't exactly talk when someone was in the room trying to sleep. Crowley shuffled over towards the headboard, and Anathema stayed down by the foot of the bed, both of them sitting with their legs crossed as they faced each other. Maybe he was still running on adrenaline from his name being called, or maybe his assorted feelings for Aziraphale were finally starting to drive him crazy, but either way, he had something he wanted to do. 

"Anathema," He said, and his voice was so small and unsure that it almost startled him to hear it come out of his own mouth. "Can I show you something?" 

"Sure." Anathema said, and she sounded as though she hadn't thought about the answer at all. 

"It's kinda personal." Crowley said, and Anathema furrowed her brows in soft concern. 

She shuffled forward, her knees bumping his on the bed, and the small amount of contact grounded him more than he cared to admit. "What is it?" 

"Just," He took a deep breath and shook his head. "Just don't like, laugh at me, or something." He said. 

Anathema huffed a bit. "And why would I do that?" 

Crowley, against his better judgement, laughed, and some of the nerves that were starting to build their way up in his body fell, though they started their climb again moments later. He closed his eyes tightly, considering what he was about to do, and reached up, pulling his sunglasses off and dropping them onto the bed between them, not willing to let himself back out of this. He reached forward a bit and Anathema, always seeming to know what he was trying to do, grabbed his hand tightly in both of hers. He kept his eyes closed for a second, taking in a deep breath, and then opened them. He looked at Anathema, blinking a couple of times to get used to the light, and held his breath as he waited for her reaction. 

"Crowley," Anathema breathed out softly. She dropped one of her hands from his, reaching out to touch his face, and he instinctively flinched away. She pulled her hand back a bit, and he settled himself down, letting her fingers make contact with his skin the second time she tried. It's just Anathema, he reminded himself, and he fought the urge to close his eyes as she swept her thumb on so gently over his cheekbone. "What happened?" 

He breathed out sharply, the sound halfway to a sob but not quite there yet, and he closed his eyes. Anathema kept up the gently sweeping of her thumb over his skin even as they closed. "It's a curse."

"A curse?" She asked, clearly curious against her better judgement. It almost made Crowley smile. Almost. 

He nodded. "Yeah. My father did it when I was a kid." 

"Oh my God." She said, pulling her hands away from him quickly. Crowley was about to either complain or get too far into his own head, unsure or which it was going to be at the current time, when she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him. Crowley hugged her back tightly, pressing his face to her shoulder. 

"His goal was to make sure that nobody would ever truly love me," He said softly, the confession almost inaudible in the quiet room. "That I'd be alone forever and it would be because of this, because of this reminder he gave me about how evil I truly am, at my core." 

Anathema pulled him closer, holding on tighter. "If I ever meet your dad I'm gonna kill him." 

Crowley laughed, and Anathema pulled away, shifting around so she was sitting beside him instead of across from him. She let him drop his head into her shoulder, pressing his face to her neck. She grabbed his discarded sunglasses from the bed beside her and held them out to him, offering them back for him to take. His glasses were like a shield to him, the one thing that truly kept him safe, and now, alone with just Anathema and her ever steady presence next to him, she was giving him the chance to put them back on, to put the shield back up, and it sent in a cruel way, not like he'd been expecting. Instead it was out of compassion, the want to make him feel safer and better and protected again, if he needed it. 

She didn't verbalize her intentions, but Crowley could tell, and against what was probably his better judgement, he pushed them away. Anathema folded the arms up and set them aside, not out of reach but to the side. Crowley didn't think he'd ever been so grateful for someone's existence before. Bentley jumped up on the bed with them, stretching herself across both of their laps and meowing softly at them a couple of times to get them to start petting her. Crowley huffed out a laugh and pushed his fingers through her fur, letting the rise and fall of her body underneath his hand ground him. 

"Can I ask you a question?" Anathema asked, and, surprisingly, Crowley didn't find himself scared to say yes. 

"Yeah." He said, shifting a bit to test more comfortably against her. 

"Why snake eyes?" She asked, and Crowley laughed. 

"If I'm being honest," Crowley said, scratching behind Bentley's ears. "I have no idea." 

Anathema laughed, just a little, and Crowley settled more fully against her. She leaned her head against his, and the two sat in silence for a while. The sounds of the still going party were muffled yet audible in the room, and it contrasted greatly with Bentley's purring, her enjoyment of the attention she was receiving vibrating their legs a bit. Anathema grabbed his hands, tangling their fingers together, and Crowley started to feel his eyelids droop. The entire day had been rather exhausting, after all, and he was in desperate need of some sleep. He yawned, which caused Anathema to yawn, and the two broke out into over tired giggles, curling closer to each other as they did so. 

"God, if we don't sort this out we're gonna fall asleep sitting up." Crowley mumbled, his words a bit slurred. 

"Scoot and let me pull down the blanket then," Anathema said, and he complied without thinking shout it, laying down once she'd gotten the blankets out from underneath them. "Do you think anyone will mind me sleeping here?" She asked. "Cause I really don't feel like leaving." 

"They think we're having sex," Crowley said, though he was sure she already knew. "So I don't think anyone else is gonna be in here tonight." 

"Good." She said, and she shifted so she was laying down beside him. Bentley curled up on the foot of bed between their legs and Crowley smiled as he looked down at her. She might have been an attention whore and evil at heart, but she certainly was cute, looking like a ball of black fluff more than a cat when she curled up the way she was. 

Anathema flipped onto her back, moving her arm away from her side, and Crowley shifted a bit so he could rest his head on her shoulder. She wrapped her arm around him and fiddled with his hair a bit, leaning over to place his folded up sunglasses on the nightstand. It was rather backwards from how it was supposed to be, or at least how Crowley had been taught it was supposed to be, but it made sense for them, and he couldn't find the energy to internally berate himself right now, not when he was so exhausted. 

"You know this doesn't change anything, right?" Anathema whispered, twirling one piece of his hair around her finger over and over again. "I still love you, snake eyes and all." 

"I love you too." Crowley murmured. It wasn't in the way others seemed to think he loved her, and it wasn't in the way he frequently told himself he should love her, but he loved her, that much was true. Maybe it was in some platonic way that he didn't like to think about too hard or he'd get a headache, but he loved her. That was good enough, for the time being, and she seemed to agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I'm so sorry I was gone for so long with no notice or anything. I won't get into it but some stuff came up in my personal life that greatly affected my mental health and left me unable to write for a bit but I'm back now and hopefully going to be able to get back into my daily or every other day updates. I promise if something like this happens again I'll do my best to let you all know and I'm sorry for ththe inconvenience.
> 
> Questions, comments, theories, concerns? Let me know in the comments I really do love reading feedback and what you guys have to say about what I'm writing :)


	9. Madame Tracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes all you need is a kind teacher to help you work things out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to point out any spelling or grammatical errors that you find :)

"I've been doing some reading." Aziraphale said, setting a small stack of books down on the table in front of him as he sat down. 

"That's nothing new." Crowley commented around a mouthful of toast, and Aziraphale glared at him halfheartedly. 

"I've been reading for your benefit, I'll have you know," He huffed, flipping open one of the books he'd brought to lunch. "So I'd appreciate it if you'd listen." 

"Alright, hit me with your nerd facts." Crowley said, dusting his hands off and bracing his forearms on the table, leaning forward on them slightly.

"The first task of the triwizard tournament is almost always a task of daring," Aziraphale said, his eyes scanning over the text in the book so fast the blue of them was slightly blurred.. "And almost always involves collecting a clue for the second task." 

"And that helps me how? I still don't know what I'm up against." Crowley pointed out. 

Aziraphale shot him a look. "No, but in the vaguest sense it tells you what to expect and what you need to start to practice. You've always been rather good at defensive spells, defense against the dark arts is your second best class after all, so I don't think we need to worry about that much, but knowing more precisely what you're going to be up against would help me find something more specific to focus on." 

Crowley was somewhat touched that Aziraphale remembered, and knew in the first place, what his best subjects were, but then he decided that that feeling was stupid so he got rid of it.

"Angel," He said softly, pulling the other boy out of his rant that would no doubt have continued endlessly if he had let it. He was tempted to, partially to see just where he would take it and partially because he liked listening to him talk. "Why are you helping me?" 

"Isn't it obvious?" Aziraphale asked, and Crowley shook his head. He scoffed. "I don't want Gabriel to win. Lord knows his ego is already big enough, and Jane is a lovely girl, but I really would love it if you were the one who won." 

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you wanted this for my sake." Crowley teased, propping his chin up on his hand and smiling across the table at him. 

Aziraphale blushed a little, though Crowley was sure that was actually the light and he was completely imagining it. "Nonsense. I want a Hogwarts victory and for Gabriel to lose, that's all."

"Also puts me one step closer to finding the antichrist." Crowley added, still somewhat bitter that he'd been the one delegated the task of finding the child of satan himself. 

"About that," Aziraphale said quietly, casting his eyes down to the table and looking exceptionally apologetic, clearly having mistaken the bitterness that seeped into Crowley's tone to have been directed at him. "I never did apologize properly for suggesting that you may be the antichrist. I'm sorry." 

Crowley waved him off. "It's no big deal." 

"But it is," Aziraphale argued, leaning closer to Crowley to get his point across as clear as he could. His face was as close as it could get to Crowley's over the table, which happened to be rather close, and Crowley fought as hard as he could not to blush. "Because it jeopardized your trust in me, and I don't ever want that to happen again." 

"I trust you," Crowley said immediately, laying his hand over Aziraphale's on the table. "I believed your explanation and I trust you. You have nothing to worry about." 

Neither boy moved for a long, long moment. Instead they looked at each other, their eyes locked but not quite focused as they stared at each other across the table. Crowley could hardly register anything else in the room as he looked at Aziraphale, the noise in the great hall more muffled now than it had been before, overpowered by the warmth of Aziraphale's hand and the confused yet somewhat curious look in his eyes that Crowley was finding himself getting lost in. Aziraphale seemed equally as dazed, though Crowley couldn't come up with a proper reason as to why, his brain a little bit fuzzy from tiredness and something else he didn't want to spend too long thinking about in fear of falling down a rabbit hole he knew it would take a miracle to get out of again. His eyes flicked briefly to Aziraphale's lips, and for a second, one tiny, insignificant second, he considered what it might be like to kiss him. 

"Hey." Anathema said, plopping herself down on the seat next to Crowley, effectively taking whatever had been holding their gazes together and snapping it in half. 

Crowley pulled his hand away so quickly it was as though he had been burned. Anathema looked at him with the same mixture of confusion and curiosity that Aziraphale had been earlier, and it only served to make his head spin more. He didn't say anything, he just sat there, his back straight and his eyes fluttering around the table. If anyone else had seen what was going on, especially someone like Hastur or Ligur, Crowley was going to be in for a world of trouble with his father, no doubt in his mind that Asmodeus would find out eventually. His hands shook slightly where he was gripping onto his robes, and Anathema's eyes quickly grew to accommodate concern instead of curiosity. 

He didn't know why he thought she wouldn't notice his tiny meltdown, the ever perceptive person that she was. She never missed much of anything, and he was growing to find that out rather quickly. Some part of him had hoped this time would be different, he supposed, but alas, that part was not satisfied, and he was left spiraling even more, his brain a whirlwind of self hatred and stupidity as the mere idea of thinking she wouldn't notice joined the pot of already boiling over thoughts that was spilling out into his head. The mental image of what that would look like joined as well, and Crowley was about ready to slam his head into a wall repeatedly until he died.

"Crowley?" Anathema asked softly, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, words forming in his throat but being inevitably pushed back my the rising feeling that he was going to be sick, his breath stuttering out in gasps around the closed up feeling.

"Are you alright my dear?" Aziraphale asked, how voice filled with as much soft concern as Anathema's had been, and Crowley snapped back immediately. 

He stood up so fast he knocked over two glasses of water, one rolling off the table and shattering, effectively starling many of the students sitting close to them and drawing uncomfortable amounts of attention to them. He scrambled back, almost ripping over the strap of his own bag, and gathered his things quickly as he listened to the laughs of a couple of third year slytherin girls that had been sitting near them. Anathema grabbed his arm as he moved and he pulled it away quickly, rushing out of the great hall as fast as he could to find the nearest bathroom. His legs were shaking so badly he was surprised they were still holding him up, and he could feel blood dripping down the palms of his hands as his nails cut deep into them.

The sound of his footsteps seemed to be echoing out around him in the corridor, which was empty aside from him, and he felt as though the noise alone was going to drive him crazy. It was too loud, his own breathing was too loud, everything was too loud and all he really wanted to do was blast his own ears off so he couldn't have to listen to it, but his hands were shaking so badly he didn't think he'd ever be able to hold a wand steady enough to cast that spell without killing himself in the process. Then again, perhaps that was his better option. The strap of his bag was digging into his shoulder too much and it kept bumping against his leg and hip every time he took a step in a way that made him feel like he wanted to break all the bones in the limb for some unknown reason. Everything was still too loud. 

The metal of the door handle was too cold when Crowley touched it, but his skin was far too warm, especially for him, and he practically barrelled into an empty stall to get away from the onslaught of sensations, slamming the door behind him and sinking down onto the floor. He pulled his sunglasses off and carelessly tossed them to the other side of the stall, listening as they hit the wall with a small metallic sound and then dropped to the ground and made another, slightly different, metallic noise. The lenses were probably cracked or one of the arms bent, he hadn't exactly been gentle with his removal of them after all, but he couldn't bring himself to care. His lungs felt like they were too big and his chest was too tight, the two pressing against each other in a way that made breathing far too hard. His hands were still shaking and his eyes were burning with tears that were threatening to spill over. Crowley didn't think he had the energy to stop them if they ever did come. That realization only served to make him feel worse.

This was stupid. He was being stupid. All sorts of things about him were stupid, from his brain to the way he looked to the way he walked, but nothing more than his heart and the feelings it brought with it. He didn't like Aziraphale. He couldn't like Aziraphale, not like that, not the way his heart and it's ridiculous feelings wanted him to, because if his father ever found out Crowley knew he wouldn't take it well. He'd made that perfectly clear in his howler at the start of the year. Not for the first time, Crowley found himself wishing he could just like Anathema, that his heart could pound in the same way when he hugged her as it did when he hugged Aziraphale, that he could fall in love with her and marry her and be anything but the disappointment to his family that he knew he was. 

Disappointed, that's what his parents would be if they could see him now, his shoulders shaking with a fresh wave of silent sobs every time a new self deprecating thought flew into his mind and joined the hurricane destroying everything positive in there. They'd be disappointed in different ways, sure, but he could practically picture the look in their eyes and the letters he'd get once world made it to them that he'd been staring at Aziraphale in the great hall with his hand over his on the table. His father wouldn't send a letter, if anything it would be a howler, though he may resort to showing up at the school and beating him to death in front of everyone else while they all just watched. It would be merciful, Crowley thought, because he wouldn't have to read what his mother was bound to send him.

No, he couldn't like Aziraphale the way he was supposed to like Anathema, because it wasn't safe for him to do so, and anyway, he wasn't gay. He wasn't, no matter how much his heart and his mind teamed up to scream it at him in the middle of the night. This entire thing was just a stupid, tiny crush born purely out of confusion and the overwhelming desire he had to latch onto the first person to show him the affection he'd been deprived of for so long and hold onto it until it eventually left him once again. There was nothing real about it, he was being ridiculous and childish and eventually it would pass and he could be normal like everyone else, like he was expected to be, like he needed to be. It had to pass eventually. It needed to pass. He didn't know what he'd do if it didn't.

"Crowley?" A voice called out into the otherwise empty bathroom. 

Crowley froze, unable to identify the voice past the ringing in his ears and the pounding of his heart that echoed in his head, the sounds mixing painfully with the echoing sound of footsteps that closed in on him just like they had in the hallway. Normally he thought he would have been holding his breath, but as he could hardly breathe as it were, the gasping breaths he was taking in doing almost nothing to help him, he decided that that wasn't the greatest option at the moment. The footsteps grew closer, and Crowley scrambled for his wand, summoning his sunglasses back to him without saying the spell. He didn't think he would have been able to speak if he wanted to. 

They stopped right outside the stall he was in, and Crowley looked out to see a pair of low heels and stockings under the gap beneath the stall door. Whoever had followed him was a woman, and the only helpful thing his brain could think of, whether or not the momentarily extraordinary amounts of stupidity had anything to do with the lack of oxygen he was taking in was beyond him, was that if they were a woman they shouldn't be in the boys washroom. 

"Men's room. You can't be here." He said dumbly between heaving breaths. 

He wasn't entirely sure that what he said was understandable at all, if he were being honest, but the other person seemed to get it, and they let out a small scoff that sounded somewhere between amused and exhausted.

"I think," They said, and the voice was suddenly a lot clearer to Crowley now that it was closer. "That I can be wherever I like at the current moment." 

"Madame Tracy?" Crowley asked, his voice small, and he heard her hum in confirmation. 

"Yes," She said, her voice taking on the gentle tone it so often did when she was talking to Crowley. "Now would you like to come out and talk to me properly? No pressure if you don't want to, I'm alright with this too if it feels better." 

Crowley took in a deep breath, weighing his options in his head. If he didn't emerge from the stall she'd still make him talk, and she didn't seem likely to leave before he did, but if he did step out she'd see his shaking hands and likely red face and she'd know something was wrong. While it wasn't entirely unpleasant for Madame Tracy to know how he was feeling, he also knew she wasn't likely to drop the subject any sooner if she could see him, if anything the conversation would only go on longer, and he wanted nothing more than for her to let him go without talking about it. 

That didn't seem likely though, and while he knew Madame Tracy was a patient woman that patience was bound to run out eventually, so he pressed his hand harshly to the wall, forcing himself up off the ground and balancing on shaky legs. He felt like he didn't know how to walk, his heart was hammering in an erratic manner and his throat was closed up and tight in a way that made him feel awful and sick. The unpleasant combination of feelings only served to make him feel worse, but he pushed that feeling back, dried his eyes on the sleeves of his robes, straightened out his glasses, and opened the door carefully. The metal was still too cold when he touched it, and it felt wrong and unnatural against his overheated skin. 

Madame Tracy was on the other side of the door, a few steps away from where it opened, and she was wearing an expression of such open concern that Crowley felt as though he were about to burst into tears again. His hands were still shaking, and he saw her eyes trace down to them, so he stuffed them in his pockets and looked down at the floor, scuffing his shoe against it as he hoped against hope that this conversation would be over soon. 

"What happened?" Madame Tracy asked carefully, and Crowley shrugged. 

"Nothing." He didn't know why he was so adamant about passing his feelings off as something entirely unimportant, but he was, and he wasn't going to let a kind teacher ruin that for him. 

"You and I both know that isn't true, Crowley." She said kindly. 

He shook his head. "I'm fine." 

"Well, why don't you come up to my office for some tea anyways?" She suggested, looking at him in a way that seemed both patient but also as if he wasn't being given much of a choice. 

Crowley took a deep, shaky breath, and nodded, his voice still unsure in the way it was coming out. He didn't think a hallway floor could ever be that interesting, but he was desperately hoping that Madame Tracy would believe it was and that was why he wasn't looking at her as they left the bathroom, because he couldn't bear to force his eyes away and have to see the unmasked concern on her face. It was far too much for him to handle. She lead the way to her office in silence, the only sound around them once again the echo of footsteps, but this time it was doubled, and it hurt his head even more with the addition. She didn't seem to notice the noise as much as he did. 

"Oh, also!" She spun around to face him, and Crowley froze. She pulled her wand out of her pocket, holding it up to eye level. "Repairo!" 

He hadn't even noticed the crack in the lense of his sunglasses until it was stitching itself back together in front of him. 

"Thanks." He mumbled, and she smiled before they continued on their way. 

Madame Tracy's office wasn't far from the bathroom Crowley had been hiding in, and in an undesirably short period of time he found himself sitting in a comfortable chair in front of her desk, his eyes fixed on the steaming cup of tea Madame Tracy had poured for him when they arrived and he had yet to touch. Her office was rather organized when compared to what you would expect it to look like. It was comfortable and homey, a stark contrast to some of the other teachers offices he'd been in over the course of his school career. While that hadn't been many, one memorable incident that landed him in Professor Shadwell's office was enough to put him off of being in them when he didn't have to be. He'd have to remember to tell The Them that story eventually. He was sure they'd love it. 

"Oh! Before I forget," Madame Tracy said as she sat down across from him, and Crowley heard her rummage around in the pocket of her robes for a moment. "The post arrived just after you left. There was a letter for you, so I figured I'd hand it over when I found you." 

Crowley froze. His heart felt like it were either about to beat out of his chest or stop entirely, he wasn't sure which, as the words sunk in. A letter. There were only two people in the world who sent him letters, and right now he didn't know who he wanted to hear from less. They knew. That's all it could come down to. Somebody had seen him and Aziraphale at lunch and somehow gotten word to his parents, who in turn managed to get a letter to him about two minutes later. It seemed slightly preposterous, but if was the only explanation he could think of, and he didn't know if he'd be able to take their inevitable rejection. 

"It's from your mother, I recognized the owl." Madame Tracy continued, and Crowley's head snapped up. His mother. 

While he'd never wanted to be rejected by his family at all, he knew he'd be able to handle it when it came from his father. Asmodeus was a cruel man, and that was what Crowley was used to. He'd seen it enough during his life, heard enough awful things about and from his father to know that inevitably he'd decide that Crowley was doing a poor job of being a son worthy of the Crowley name and would cast him aside in favour of preserving the minimal influence they still had when it came to the dark arts. His mother though, Crowley loved his mother. She'd always been kind and understanding and supportive and, above all else, she loved him, which was more than he could say for anyone else in his life. Her opinion had always mattered most to him, and he didn't know how he was going to be able to handle her rejection. 

His hand shook as he took the letter from her, the vibrating of his arm almost causing him to drop it a couple of times. Some of the blood still dripping from his palms fell onto the envelope, and he didn't look up at Madame Tracy to know her face would be full of pity. He took a deep breath, ripping open the seal, and held it as he unfolded the letter. 

Anthony,

Triwizard champion! I'm so incredibly proud of you! I'm so sorry this is such a short letter, we've been dreadfully busy at work, but I needed to let you know how proud I am. I never thought you'd be the type to put your name in the goblet, but now that you've done it and your name has been pulled I can't be anything but proud! 

I know you won't be coming home for Christmas this year because of the yule ball, and I'm certainly going to miss you, but your headmistress has informed me that parents are allowed to come support their children in the third task and I've already booked the week she told me off work. Maybe you can finally introduce me to Aziraphale when I come up, I've been dying to meet him! Give him my love when you see him next, will you?

Anathema sounds like an absolutely lovely girl, and Adam and his friends sound delightful as well. I always knew you were fond of kids, but I have to admit, I didn't expect you to befriend four of them. I think I've heard of Newt before, I'll have to check and see. I'm glad you're making more friends this year, you'll have to introduce me to them as well.

I love you and I'm so incredibly proud of you

__

All my love, mom

Crowley read over the letter about ten times before it sunk in. She didn't know. She had absolutely no idea about his stupid feelings for Aziraphale. Instead she was writing to tell him she was proud of him. Proud. That's a word he didn't think he'd be reading today. A couple of tears slipped down his cheeks and landed on the parchment held tightly in his still shaking hands. 

"Crowley?" Madame Tracy asked, concern clear in her voice. "Are you alright?" 

He didn't say anything, didn't look up at her, instead he just continued to stare at the letter as more tears fell onto it. Madame Tracy got up and moved to sit beside him instead of across from him, her footsteps light as she moved, and placed one hand on his shaking shoulder. 

"Crowley?" She tried again, and he let out a sob. 

She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and, against what was probably his better judgement, he let her pull him to her chest as he cried. He wasn't sure why he was crying. The relief he felt was immense, never before had he been so glad that someone didn't hate him. It was like a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders, his entire body trembling from the loss of the strain, and Madame Tracy just held him. He cried into her shoulder, no doubt staining her robes with tears, and she did nothing but rub soft circles into his back. She didn't say anything, didn't ask what was wrong and why he was crying, and he was immensely grateful, because if she had asked he didn't know how he would have answered. 

The bell to end lunch sounded loudly and startled the pair of them. Crowley had temporarily forgotten he still had two more classes to go to and, judging by the look on her face, so had Madame Tracy. He pulled back, taking a deep breath and rubbing harshly at his eyes. The letter was still tightly held in his hand and he made sure to tuck it carefully into his bag in a spot he was sure it wouldn't get damaged in. They both stood up, Madame Tracy going to her desk and Crowley heading for the door, and she called out to him as he reached for the doorknob. 

"Thirty points to slytherin," She said, and Crowley turned around to face her, his expression one of intense disbelief. "Nobody needs to know why."

"But that puts slytherin ahead of gryffindor." He said. The idea that she'd give him enough points to put slytherin ahead of her own house was astonishing. 

"I may be the head of house, but even I can acknowledge that we've won enough times," She smiled at him. "Bedsides, we've still got plenty of time to catch up again." 

Crowley smiled back at her, his first genuine one all day, and turned back towards the door, taking a deep breath before pulling it open and stepping back out into the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it gang I finally managed to finish a chapter. I hope someone is still interested in this. I'm gonna try and get back on a regular posting schedule now (no promises as to how long it'll stay that way though), and I'm so so sorry for how long this chapter took to post. I think everything that was getting in the way of my writing has cleared up now and I should be all set to finish and post some more chapters :)
> 
> How are we feeling? Do you think Crowley's parents are ever gonna find out? If so, how do you think they're gonna react? How do we feel about Crowley's mom? Let me know. 
> 
> Questions, concerns, theories, opinions? Comment them I love reading them and they're the reason I continue to work on fics.


	10. Bloody Knuckles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Crowley wanted was to have one good day, but the universe seemed determined to make sure that never happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to point out any spelling or grammatical errors that you find :)
> 
> *TW: Homophobic slurs and comments*

The closer they got to November twentieth the more unprepared Crowley started to feel. The only information they'd been able to find was what Aziraphale had told him, and there were no prophecies that directly related to either of the first tasks. He was starting to feel a bit hopeless. Gabriel, ever the cocky asshole, seemed to think he had it all figured out and bragged about it to his friends every time Crowley or Jane was nearby. At least Jane was just as lost as he was, and they'd promised that they would tell each other when or if they found something. Neither of them was going to tell Gabriel though. If he was going to claim he knew, why would they tell him something he already knew? 

That didn't seem like it was going to be a problem though, as neither of them really had any idea what was going to happen outside of Aziraphale's small contribution. Crowley was immensely grateful for everything he was doing to try and help him, but he still couldn't look him in the eye. Not really, not after the small breakdown he'd had, and he could tell that it was starting to get to the other boy. He felt bad, really he did, but he couldn't seem to make sense of anything he was feeling and being around Aziraphale was only making it more confusing for him. 

He wasn't avoiding him, not really. He was just spending more time with Adam instead, and the kid didn't seem to be complaining about it. Crowley had taken to teaching him more quidditch tricks on the weekends and spending his time after classes in the library with him to help him with his work. In all the excitement with the antichrist and triwizard tournament they had all rather forgotten about their school work and it was finally starting to come back to haunt them.

"I don't get it." Adam huffed, throwing down his quill and leaning back in his chair. 

Crowley looked up from his own transfiguration essay, leaning over to look down at Adam's paper. "Expelliarmus is a defensive spell, not an offensive spell. You're using it to remove a wand from a wizards hand, not to purposefully do them any harm."

"You're the best." Adam said, grinning up at Crowley like he was his hero. He smiled and ruffled his hair, turning his attention back to his own school work. 

"Professor Dagon always assigns stupid essays like that. You're meant to try and figure it out yourself, it's not something she teaches." Crowley said. 

"How do you know so much about defense against the dark arts anyway?" Adam asked. 

Crowley, sensing he wasn't going to be doing much more work, set down his quill and turned to face Adam fully. "My mom. She wanted to teach it before, you know. Before everything happened." 

Adam nodded. "I get it. My dad wanted to be a Quidditch player, but they weren't really looking for those during the war, so he ended up being an auror instead." 

"No wonder you're so interested in Quidditch." Crowley teased, and Adam smiled at him. 

"Speaking of Quidditch." 

Crowley shook his head. "Nope. No flying lessons today kid, don't want you falling behind on your school work." 

Adam huffed, but he turned back to his essay anyway. "You're falling behind." 

"I'm also in my seventh year," Crowley pointed out. "When you're seventeen you can fall behind on your classes too."

"I'll probably start falling behind when you're not here to help me." Adam said, and Crowley was suddenly and violently reminded that in less than a years time he wouldn't have Adam around to keep him company anymore.

"Send me an owl if you need help, I'm not gonna disappear." Crowley suggested, and Adam grinned. 

"I'm gonna send you letters every day when you're gone, so you always know what's happening." Adam told him.

Crowley leaned over and ruffled his hair, smiling down at him. "Thanks kid."

"Anathema will send you letters too," Adam said it like it was a fact. "You two won't be able to go that long without talking to each other." 

Crowley huffed out a laugh. "I think you're right about that."

Adam smiled and turned back to his essay, and the lack of conversation prompted Crowley to look back at his own essay for a long moment. He tapped his quill against the table as he thought, the words he was supposed to be writing refusing to register in his brain. It was too focused on other things, like the lack of progress he was making in his classes and the looming threat of the first task. Most prominently though, he was focused on Adam, and more specifically the amount of time he was going to spend not seeing him once he was finished at Hogwarts. He really didn't want to spend too much time focusing on that, it was a sad fact that he'd have to accept eventually but wasn't ready to yet, but he found himself struggling to think of anything but. 

He loved Adam, he really did. The kid was like a younger brother to him that he didn't know he wanted until he had him, and he didn't like to think about how short the time he was going to have with him around really was. This was why he shouldn't have befriended children, he thought. He was getting far too attached to a group of people he was never going to see again. Because that was just it. In less than a year he was never going to see Adam or The Them again, he wasn't going to see Anathema and he wasn't going to see Newt. Jane and Hazel and Aziraphale were all leaving with him, and while it was more likely he'd continue to see them than anyone else, his chances still didn't seem great. 

Crowley didn't remember another time in his life where he'd had so many people he was scared to lose, and yet knew he was going to lose anyway. It hurt more to think about than he would have liked to admit. The group of them had become like a little family to him over the past couple of months, and while he still had until June before he truly had to leave them, it seemed much closer than it had before he'd met them. He'd been excited to leave at the beginning of the year, the only thing he was looking forward to getting his schooling over and done with, but now he found himself dreading the day he'd have to take the Hogwarts Express home for the last time. It was funny, in a way, that his mind had been changed so much in such a short period of time.

He sighed and tossed his quill down on the table, scrubbing his hand over his face. "I change my mind," He said, turning to face Adam. "Pack up, we're going to the Quidditch pitch."

Adam's face lit up and he scrambled to put his things in his bag, crumpling his half finished essay in his rush to get it out it away. He winced and Crowley slipped his wand out of his pocket, fixing it without really looking to see what he was doing as he packed up his own things. Adam was looking at him with wide eyes when he turned back to him. 

"What?" He asked, looking around them. "What happened?" 

"You can do nonverbal spells?" Adam asked, his eyes bright as he looked up at him. 

Crowley shrugged. "Most seventh years can do them." 

Adam's amazement didn't seem to waver with that though. "Can you teach me?" 

"I'm afraid that's a bit above your skill level," Crowley laughed, clapping Adam on the back and steering him towards the door. "Come on, let's go. Common room and then Quidditch. "

The two of them hardly made it down to the main level before Crowley was practically being tackled by Hazel, who sped down the hall and grabbed him. 

"Hazel?" He asked, grabbing her waist to steady her.

"Crowley, please, you've gotta come," She panted, gripping onto his biceps tightly. "The other kids are scared of you, they'll listen to you?" 

"What's wrong?" He asked, bending down a bit to meet her eye. 

She looked like she was about to burst into tears. "Brian. Now come on!"

She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the door. Crowley looked back at Adam for a second and the two ran to keep up with her as she dragged Crowley out into the field. Crowley wasn't quite sure what he was expecting once he got out to the field, but it wasn't this. Brian and Wensleydale were both there, and so was Anathema, who was yelling at a couple of sixth year slytherin boys who were pushing Brian around. Wensleydale looked like he was about to burst into tears, his eyes wide as he shook next to Anathema and watched the boys pin Brian down. Crowley's blood boiled. 

"Oi!" He shouted once they were close enough for them to hear, and he saw the boys freeze. "That's enough!" 

The boys both looked up at him and one smiled in an awfully self way. "Ah, Anthony! You hear to get in on the fun?" 

"Shut up, and don't talk to me like we're friends." Crowley growled, grabbing the boy by the front of his robes and hauling him off of Brian, who scrambled off the ground and raced over to Anathema and Wensleydale. 

"Come on, we were just having a bit of fun." The boy laughed, clearly expecting Crowley to find it as entertaining as he did, but he didn't.

"He's eleven." Crowley snapped, dragging the boy closer to his face. The other one, clearly sensing that he was going to get similar treatment, went to make a run for it, but Hazel and Anathema each grabbed one of his arms and dragged him back over as well. 

"Yeah, and he's a little queer." The other boy sneered, and Crowley saw red.

"What?" He asked, his voice deceptively calm, and the boys eyes widened a bit. 

"The kids a little fag," He faked innocence as he spoke, how friend laughing as he did so. "Didn't you know? He's not exactly subtle." 

"Shut up!" Wensleydale shouted, and the boy grinned, starting towards him. 

Crowley shoved his chest and he stumbled back. "Leave them the fuck alone."

"Oh yeah?" The boy asked, crossing his arms as he looked at Crowley. His friend shook Hazel and Anathema off and stepped up behind him. "Or what?" 

Crowley took a step forward, ready to beat the shot out of these guys, and Anathema stepped between them, placing her hand on his chest and using it to push him back. "Don't." She said, applying more pressure to push him back when he went to move again. 

Crowley took a couple of steps back and she dropped her hand, moving back over to Brian to make sure he was okay. Crowley glared harshly at the boys, who laughed. 

"Yeah, listen to the slut Crowley. Look at you, defending mudbloods and fags. What do you think daddy would say?" The other boy taunted, and that was the last straw.

He grabbed the boy by his robes again and threw him to the ground, wrapping a hand around his throat as he loomed over him. The boys wand fell from his pocket and he scrambled for it, but Crowley kicked it away, applying a little more pressure to his throat. "Apologize."

He released some of the pressure on his throat and the boy coughed, clawing at Crowley's hand. "You're fucking crazy!" 

Crowley slammed his fist into the side of the boys face, tightening his hold on his neck. "Don't speak to my friends like that," He snapped, punching him a couple more times for good measure. His knuckles were probably split in some capacity, and the boys nose looked thoroughly broken, but he didn't seem willing to give an apology, so Crowley punched him again. "I said apologize!"

"Crowley get off of him!" Hazel shouted, but he ignored her. 

The boy smiled, his teeth slightly bloody. "What? You beating me up cause you're a fag like he is?"

Crowley slammed his fist into his cheek harder this time, his hand stinging from the force of it. "Shut the fuck up." 

"Ooo," He laughed, grabbing onto Crowley's wrist. "I'm right, aren't I? Somebody better tell your dad, I'm sure he'd love to set you straight." 

Crowley punched him a couple more times, his hand stinging and his heart pounding, but he couldn't stop himself. All of the anger and frustration he had been feeling for the past month were coming out now, and they were coming out violently. How dare this stupid kid think he could talk about Brian and Anathema like that, think that he could talk to Crowley like that. He punched him again. He had no right to use the language he had been using, especially towards someone as young as Brian. He punched him again. And again. And again. For Brian, for Anathema, for Wensleydale and Adam having to hear what he'd said. He couldn't stop himself from slamming his fist into his face again and again. 

"That is enough Anthony!" 

He stopped, his chest heaving as he was pulled off of the boy by Professor Shadwell. The boys friend was behind him, looking scared as he cast his eyes towards his friend lying bloodied on the ground. Crowley's heart felt like it was about to best out of his chest, the pounding ringing in his ears as Shadwell held him back. 

"What the hell were you thinking boy?" Shadwell snapped, letting go of a squirming Crowley who spun around to face him, his fist dripping blood into the grass. 

"No offense sir, but he deserved it." Crowley said. 

Shadwell scoffed. "Deserved it? Look what you did to his face!" 

Crowley looked back at the boy, who was standing next to his friend and bleeding from multiple points on his face, bruises forming all over the place and his left eye already swelling. He felt a little bad looking at him, but then he looked over at Brian and the cuts lettering his face and all guilt left his body in an instant. 

"He attacked a defenseless first year," Crowley explained, gesturing to Brian. Shadwell looked back at him and gasped a tiny bit. "Called him all sorts of slurs too." 

"Is that true?" Shadwell asked, looking between Adam and Anathema and Hazel and Wensleydale, who all nodded. He spun around to face the boys, his eyes cold. "Get yourself to the hospital wing and fix your face, and I want both of you in my office as soon as it's done. If you're not there in an hour there'll be hell to pay for both of you, got it?" 

The boys nodded and scurried over to the castle. Crowley watched them go, and for the first time he noticed Aziraphale, who was standing behind Shadwell and staring at Crowley with wide, horrified eyes. He looked paler than usual, his breath slightly heavy, and Crowley looked away quickly, unable to bring himself to look at him. 

"And you, a weeks detention, my office every night starting tomorrow. There will be no exceptions." Shadwell told Crowley sharply. 

"Yes sir." He nodded. Whether it was because Brian was in his own house or Shadwell just felt bad for the kid Crowley didn't know, but he was getting off fast easier than he should have, and he wasn't going to try and complain about that. Some of the adrenaline was fizzling out now, and he was starting to see the situation for how bad it really was. 

"Aziraphale, help him with his hand. I'm disappointed in you boy." And with those parting words Shadwell started back towards the castle, leaving a Quidditch pitch full of angry kids and a fee terrified onlookers. 

Crowley looked around him, catching Anathema's eye, and without so much as a word she walked over and slapped him before pulling him into a hug. He returned it, careful not to get any blood from his hand on her robes, and looked over at Adam. He was positively fuming, his hands balled into fists at his sides as he practically shook with anger. Crowley got it. He was sure he would have been just as mad if someone was picking on his friend like that. Hell, he had been about ready to tear Michael limb from limb when he learned what he had done to Aziraphale. He could understand why Adam looked ready to kill someone twice his size. 

"You'll be lucky if they still let you participate in the tournament." Anathema scolded him as she pulled away. 

"Can't exactly pull me out, can they?" He said, wincing slightly when she grabbed his hand to look over. She gave him an apologetic look before turning back to examining it. "I'm magically bound and required to participate." 

She grimaced. "I forgot about that part." 

Crowley pulled his hand carefully from hers and stepped around her, making his way over to Brian, who was trying to comfort Wensleydale, who looked rather hysterical. 

"I'm fine." He said quietly, patting him on the back, and Wensleydale let out a sound that was halfway to a sob. 

"You could have been seriously hurt. Actually, they could have killed you." He said, his eyes wide as he looked at him. 

"But they didn't. Crowley stepped in," He said, and both boys looked over at him. "That was really cool, by the way." 

"Actually, that wasn't very cool, he could have gotten hurt, or expelled." Wensleydale pointed out, before another almost sob shook his body and he tossed his arms around Brian and buried his face in his shoulder. Brian blushed a bit and hugged him back, giving Crowley a thumbs up over his shoulder. 

Crowley smiled back at him and turned around, instantly coming face to face with Aziraphale, who was standing with his arms crossed and still looked rather put out. 

"Show me your hand." He said, holding out one of his, and Crowley very gently placed his in his grip, trying his hardest to ignore the spark that shot through his arm at the contact. 

He looked at Crowley's hand for a rea long seconds before sighing and slipping his wand out of his pocket, holding it over his hand. He didn't say anything, but he'd clearly cast a spell as the skin of his hand knitted itself back together. He'd always been impressed by Aziraphale's ability when it came to nonverbal spells, but especially healing ones. He himself had never been very good at those. 

"That was irresponsible." Aziraphale said coldly, and Crowley felt the tiniest bit of remorse for his actions. 

"They deserved it." He said, making sure Aziraphale knew. 

He scoffed. "You could have seriously injured him." 

"Doesn't mean he deserved it any less," Crowley pointed out. "If you had heard the way he was talking to Brian you would have done the same thing." 

"Personally I don't enjoy being called a slut." Anathema piped up from behind him, and Hazel wrapped her arm around her in support. The two of them had to get together soon or Crowley thought he was going to lose his mind.

"Those boys were out of line, that's true," Aziraphale said, his voice a little bit shaky. "But so were you." 

"Aziraphale, you're being ridiculous. It wasn't that big of a deal." Crowley scoffed. 

"Maybe I am, and maybe it wasn't, but this is the same type of behavior that started your father off on the wrong path, and look where that got him." Aziraphale said plainly, and Crowley's heart stopped.

"You said you didn't think I was anything like him. You said you were lying." He practically spat the last word, his throat burning as it came out.

"I did," Aziraphale agreed. "But now I can see that maybe you're more like him than I thought, and everyone else just seems to be blind to it."

"Aziraphale, you don't mean that, I know you don't mean that." Crowley pleaded, stepping closer to him and grabbing a hold of his arms. 

"I don't think I like the person that you're becoming Crowley." Aziraphale said softly, before pulling away from him and turning to head back towards the castle. 

Crowley stood rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but watch Aziraphale's retreating form and wonder what the hell had just happened. Anathema stepped up beside him and grabbed his hand, pulling his attention back to the present, and nodded towards the castle. 

"We should head back." She said, and he nodded wordlessly and followed her as she started back towards the school, the rest of then following behind them. 

"You know Aziraphale didn't mean any of that," Hazel said, appearing at Crowley's other side. "Those guys deserved it." 

"I'm gonna talk to him when I see him." Anathema declared, and Crowley shook his head. 

"Don't. It's not that big of a deal." He said. 

Anathema didn't look like she believed him. "He upset you."

"So do most of the people working for the ministry of magic, but I don't see you rushing off to fight them in my defense." Crowley said sharply. 

Anathema frowned but didn't say anything else as they walked into the school. Hazel took Wensleydale, who refused to leave Brian's side, resulting in him coming along too, back to the ravenclaw common room, and Crowley was about to turn and head for the common room when he spotted the two boys from before, clearly on their way to Shadwell's office as they walked down the stairs, and stopped. Neither of them looked like they felt any guilt for what they'd done and said and it made Crowley's blood boil. 

"Just ignore them." Anathema said, ushering him in the direction of the common room. 

She turned around to grab Adam's arm and pull him with them when one of the boys seemingly lost control of his legs and they gave out under him. He grabbed a hold of his friend, an action that proved to be entirely unhelpful, and the two of them toppled down the rest of the stairs, landing in an awkward heap on the floor. The three of them stared, all unsure of what had just happened, and Crowley was seconds away from turning and leaving them when something else caught his eye. There, at the top of the stairs, was the same dark haired boy in a pair of headphones and slytherin robes that he'd seen all that time ago on the quidditch pitch. He was staring down at the boys where they were crumpled up on the floor and groaning before turning his attention to the three of them, catching Crowley's eye for a second before turning around and heading back in the direction he'd clearly just come from. 

"Was that Warlock?" Anathema asked, voicing her thoughts to no one in particular. 

Crowley said nothing, instead he just stared at the spot the boy had just been feeling more confused than he had in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so long and it isn't even good I'm sorry my writers block won't leave me alone. How are we feeling? What do we think is happening? Have I lost any of you yet? This plot is so wild and complex and I'm really digging the way it's all starting to come together. What do you think is going on with Aziraphale? What's happening to Crowley? So many questions this chapter, let me know what you think the answers are. 
> 
> Questions, comments, concerns, opinions? Leave them in the comments I really love reading what you guys have to say


	11. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They weren't supposed to be going down to the Quidditch pitch, so of course Crowley made it his mission to do exactly that, and if he managed to get a certain hufflepuff in on it, well, he certainly wouldn't be complaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to point out any spelling or grammatical errors that you find :)

Aziraphale smacked Crowley's arm, getting his attention as he once again started to nod off during divination. His head shot up and he looked at Madame Tracy, giving her an apologetic smile when he caught her eye. She rolled her eyes fondly and continued with the lesson, clearly not caring much about how many times he'd almost fallen asleep. 

"What's wrong with you today?" Aziraphale asked, tearing his eyes away from his notes to look at Crowley instead. It was a fair question. Crowley had almost fallen asleep at breakfast too and decided to take a nap during lunch to try and fight off some of the drowsiness he was feeling. It hadn't helped. 

He shrugged and muffled a yawn with the back of his hand. "Was up all night doing an essay for potions." 

Aziraphale sighed and patted Crowley on the back softly, leaving his hand resting there for longer than strictly necessary. "You need to develop better sleeping habits my dear. Especially with the first task coming up." 

"Yeah yeah." Crowley huffed, crossing his arms on the table and resting his head on them. 

He watched Aziraphale as he worked, his sleep deprived body unwilling to put in the effort to stop himself from smiling as Aziraphale gave a running monologue to him of all the things he was finding out. It was cute, Crowley thought, that he was taking into account that he wouldn't be doing any work today and was trying to help him out a little bit. Madame Tracy plopped down in a seat across from them and Crowley moved his head a bit, looking at her and then back at Aziraphale, who had stopped talking when he noticed her arrival. 

"Tired are we?" She asked, smiling gently at Crowley. He opened his mouth to answer but ended up yawning instead, drawing a laugh from her and an exasperated huff from Aziraphale. "Go to bed early tonight, Crowley. I'll have to take some house points if you fall asleep again tomorrow."

"Yes ma'am." He said, ending the comment on another yawn. 

Madame Tracy laughed a little again and stood up, patting Crowley on the shoulder. "Good. Wonderful work, Mr Fell. Ten points to hufflepuff." She smiled at the pair of them and moved on to the next table. 

Aziraphale turned to Crowley as soon as she was gone. "What did you do to get on her good side?" 

Crowley squinted at him a bit. "Does she even have a bad side to be on?" 

"You're unbelievable." Aziraphale huffed, but Crowley thought he saw the ghost of a smile he was trying to fight off appear on his face. It might have been the sleep deprivation rearing its head again, but he was too tired to care and took it as a win anyway. 

The door swung open and everyone turned to look at the latecomer. Crowley was prepared to make a snarky comment about whoever thought coming to the second last class of the day late was a good idea, but stopped himself when he was the young ravenclaw girl standing in the doorway. He might be an asshole, but be wasn't going to make fun of a girl who looked like she was in her third year. 

"Miss Walsh," Madame Tracy said kindly. "What can I help you with?" 

"Sorry to interrupt Madame Tracy, but the headmistress sent me to get Crowley." The girl said, her voice soft and her cheeks a little pink from all the attention that was on her. 

All the eyes that had been on the Walsh girl turned to Crowley, some in confusion and some in jealousy that he got to leave early. Crowley looked at Aziraphale, who was one of the people on the confused end of the spectrum, though he also looked a little worried. 

"I'll send him right out once he's packed up." Madame Tracy said, shooting a pointed glance at the collection of papers and books spread out around Crowley and Aziraphale's table, and the girl nodded before slipping back out of the room. People stared at Crowley for a couple more seconds before turning their attentions back to their work, leaving him to shove his things into his bag without being scrutinized. 

"What do you have to see the headmistress for?" Aziraphale asked quickly. 

"Dunno." Crowley merely shrugged, shoving a paper into his bag in a way that crumpled it and made Aziraphale wrinkle his nose in vague distaste.

"I do hope you're not in trouble." Aziraphale huffed, taking Crowley's bag from him and putting the test of his things in with more care than he had been. Crowley didn't stop him. 

"Probably just tournament stuff, don't worry too much," He said, taking his bag back from Aziraphale. "Catch you later angel."

Without thinking about it he patted Aziraphale gently on the head when he passed, and it took all of his willpower not to freeze once he realized what he did. His hair was soft, that was the only thing he could focus on as he joined the ravenclaw girl in the hall and let her lead him down to The Almighty's office. It was obnoxiously fluffy, and Crowley had always thought it would be soft, but now that he had that confirmation he didn't know what to do with it. He didn't know that he wanted the information until he had it, but having it wasn't doing him many favours either. His mind was still on it when they reached the office, and the Walsh girl said a quick goodbye before rushing off down the hall again. 

He stepped through the open office door and realized quite quickly that he had been right in assuming it was tournament related, and also that he was the last person to arrive. Gabriel and Jane were both already there, their respective headmasters sitting with them. Gabriel was speaking quietly with his and shot Crowley a dirty look as he stepped into the room. He wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve it this time, but there was probably an absurd reason of some kind. Jane grinned when she saw him and pulled her bag off of the seat next to her, nodding towards it. He smiled back and walked over.

She gave him a concerned look when he sat down. "Are you alright?" She asked. 

He nodded. "Peachy." 

The Almighty stepped into the room a moment later and Gabriel and his headmasters conversation broke off quickly, leaving the five of them sitting and watching as she walked across her office, a man Crowley very vaguely recognized a step behind her. 

"Champions," The Almighty greeted them, and they all murmured some sort of response. "You're probably wondering who my guest is. This is R.P Tyler, world renowned wandmaker. He's here for the wand weighing ceremony." 

"What is that?" Jane asked, her accent sounding thicker than usual. 

"He's just going to check your wands to make sure they're in proper working order for the task." The Almighty said, smiling gently at her. Well, as gentle as she could get, which wasn't very much, but it's the thought that counts.

"Mr Hill, if you might bring me your wand." R.P Tyler requested, his hands folded behind his back as he looked at Gabriel. 

Gabriel got out of his seat, a look of vague apprehension replacing the cocky look of self importance that usually covered his face. He walked over carefully and handed over his wand rather reluctantly, looking skeptical as R.P Tyler took it. Crowley had never cared much for the man, his eccentric nature making him rather hard to hold any sort of lasting conversation with, but Gabriel had no right to doubt his skill in his profession. He was one of the worlds greatest wandmakers, and Gabriel had better respect that. 

"I see," R.P Tyler hummed, turning Gabriel's wand over in his hand a couple of times. "Cypress wood, dragon heartstring, twelve inches, unyielding flexibility. Quite spotless, might I add." 

"I polish it every other day." Gabriel said, and the amount of self satisfaction in his voice for something so pointless was vaguely disgusting. 

R.P Tyler made a swishing motion with the wand and some red sparks erupted from the end of it. He gave a satisfied little nod and handed it back to Gabriel, who looked all too proud of himself for something as simple as having a wand that worked. 

"Everything seems to be in working order." He declared, and Gabriel smiled as he took the wand back. 

"Thank you sir." He said. Crowley wanted to hex him. 

"Miss Paiement, if you please." R.P Tyler gestured for Jane to come forward next. Like always, it seemed Crowley would have to go dead last. He couldn't really say he was surprised at this point. 

Jane shot Crowley a rather panicked look as she got up, walking carefully over to R.P Tyler and taking her sweet time with slipping her wand out of the pocket of her robes. Crowley had never seen Jane perform magic before, and he didn't know what he was expecting, but for some reason the ordinary wand she handed over left him feeling a little disappointed, which was stupid and he decided to ignore. 

"Alder wood, unicorn hair, eleven inches, quite flexible," R.P Tyler listed as he examined the wand, spinning it back and forth between his fingers. He stopped on one particular section, squinting a bit beneath his glasses and running his thumb over one spot a couple of times. "It's been broken before." 

Jane looked rather embarrassed, casting her eyes to the floor as she nodded. "Yes." 

"But you mended it?" He continued, a note of disbelief in his voice. 

"It was just a small crack, it wasn't much." She said, her eyes still trained on the floor. 

"Extraordinary," He said, flicking the wand and creating a puff of bluish smoke that circled around the two of them a few times before fading away. "An extraordinary wand for an extraordinary girl. And in perfect condition too." 

He smiled kindly at Jane as he passed her wand back. She smiled back in a rather rushed sort of way and walked quickly back to her spot, her dark skin highlighted with a red flush when she sat down next to Crowley. Gabriel watched her as she walked, his eyes following her all the way until her seat, but he looked away when he noticed that Crowley had caught him staring. 

"Mr Crowley." R.P Tyler said at last, and Crowley took no time in standing up and crossing the room to the man with strides that were rather obnoxious in length. He pulled his wand out of his pocket, looking regretfully down at the fingerprint covered wood as he handed it over. 

"Ah, I remember this one well, I sold you this one," R.P Tyler said, smiling as he looked over it. He hadn't directed the smile at Crowley, but at the wand itself. It was rather odd, but Crowley chose not to dwell on it. "Vine, dragon heartstring, fourteen inches, quite supple flexibility. Almost the exact same as your fathers, wasn't it? As close as you can get to a replica." 

Gabriel made a sort of half choke noise, coughing violently after the statement, and it took all of Crowley's willpower not to snatch his wand back and hex him on the spot. 

"Yes." He replied through clenched teeth, though R.P Tyler didn't seem to notice the discomfort his statement had caused. 

"I remember that clear as day. A very rare occurrence, you know, especially within a family." He continued, oblivious to the shaking of Crowley's clenched fists at his sides. The Almighty, however, who was standing just behind R.P Tyler and observing the entire thing, did notice, and took pity on Crowley and the unfortunate memory that had been brought up. 

"It works, I assume?" She asked, and R.P Tyler laughed. 

"Oh, it works very well indeed," He laughed a little more, swishing the wand and drawing a small line of fire through the air with the tip of it. It burned in place for a few seconds before putting itself out, leaving the faint smell of smoke behind. "Some strong spells have been performed with this wand, young man. You're exceptionally talented." 

"Thank you." Crowley mumbled, taking his wand back and walking back over to his seat, sitting down stiffly. Jane subtly scooted closer and rested her hand on his knee, squeezing ever so slightly to offer some support. Crowley was immensely grateful. 

"Well, now that we know that everyone's wands are in working order, I just have a couple more things to say before you're all free to head off to dinner," The Almighty said, stepping around R.P Tyler and giving him a kind look. "Thank you for your assistance, Mr Tyler."

"It was no issue at all." He replied kindly, and followed Professor War, who had stepped into the room only a moment ago, no doubt for the soul purpose of escorting R.P Tyler to the entrance hall, out of the room. 

"Alright, down to business. The first task is to take place in four days time, and I should hope that you all have some sort of idea what you're dealing with. The Quidditch pitch is closed to set up for the task and you are not to go anywhere near it unless absolutely necessary. If you're found to have done so you'll be facing a harsh punishment. Am I understood?." 

She looked at Crowley as she said the last part, and the three of them all muttered some sort of confirmation while she continued to stare at him. Jane looked over at him briefly in confusion but didn't say anything on the topic, which Crowley was immensely grateful for, because he didn't have an answer to give her if she'd asked. The Almighty wasn't particularly skilled in Legilimency, at least not that Crowley was aware, so there wasn't that strong of s chance that she could tell what sort of plan Crowley was putting together in his mind. If she could, however, then he was about to be in a world of trouble.

"Dinner is to start in about five minutes, you're free to go." The Almighty told them, and the five remaining people in the room all got out of their seats. 

Jane swung her bag up onto her shoulder and leaned close to Crowley as the two of them started for the door. "Have any idea what we're up against?" 

He shook his head. "No, but I think I might be about to figure it out." 

Jane looked at him with a mixture of confusion and intrigue, but she didn't say anything else, and the two of them made their way down to the great hall in a comfortable silence. It wasn't that Crowley didn't want to tell her, he really did, but he didn't want her to get any ideas into her head without joining him in his stupid idea. He liked Jane, but she wasn't someone he wanted to bring along for something like this. He had someone else in mind entirely, someone he knew was going to be exceptionally mad at him for suggesting it, and he was fully prepared to try and convince them to do it. 

"Hey, I'll meet you in there in a bit, I'm gonna run to the common room first." Crowley said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the approximate direction of the slytherin common room, taking a few steps backwards so that he could still look at Jane. 

She smiled at him, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Okay. I'll see you." 

"Yeah." Crowley smiled back before turning around and rounding the corner. He wasn't actually heading back to the common room, and he was almost positive Jane knew that, but she didn't question him and he was immensely grateful for that. He didn't want to have to try and explain it to her. 

He took a couple of rights and a left or two and quickly found himself just outside of the div in nation classroom as the bell sounded. Students started to flood out of the room and Crowleh ducked behind a wall, watching closely and smiling to himself when he finally saw his target. He was at the back of the group of students, usually behaviour that Crowley was growing to expect of him, and wasn't paying a whole lot of attention as he put something into his bag. Perfect. Crowley kept behind the wall until he was right in front of him and grabbed him from behind, pulling him down the other hallway with him. Aziraphale let out a very uncharacteristic shriek like sound, flailing around Crowley for a second, and the moment he let him go Crowley started cackling. 

Aziraphale turned around quickly, his features sharp and his hand already moving towards his wand, but he stopped when he saw who it was. 

"Good heavens," He huffed, straightening out his robes as he looked disapprovingly at Crowley. "What on earth was that for?" 

"I wanted to get your attention." Crowley shrugged, and Aziraphale made another offended noise. 

"You could have just spoken to me like a normal person!" He reasoned, and Crowley grinned widely at him. 

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?" Aziraphale smacked him on the head. "Ow. Alright, sorry, but I need to talk to you about something." 

"Is it about why the almighty wanted to talk to you? You're not in trouble are you?" Aziraphale asked, switching from annoyed to concerned faster than Crowley thought it was probably reasonable to. 

"I'm fine, just tournament stuff. That's not what I wanna talk about though. I know how to figure out what the first task is." Crowley told him. 

Aziraphale positively lit up with a combination of excitement and interest. "Really? Good job, Crowley. What do you need to do?" 

"You're not gonna like it." Crowley said, and Aziraphale's smile fell. 

"Oh dear," Aziraphale took a deep breath. "What is it?" 

"They're holding the first task at the Quidditch pitch, and I wanna sneak down there and see what they're setting up." Crowley explained. 

Aziraphale looked about ready to hit him. "That's a horrible idea." He said, and Crowley grinned. 

"I know. Isn't it fun?" He laughed.

Aziraphale scoffed and crossed his arms. "And why did you feel the need to tell me about your terrible idea?" 

"Because I want you to come with me." Crowley said plainly, and Aziraphale looked even more like he was about to hit him. 

"Are you crazy?" He gasped, his voice somewhat frantic and raised in pitch. It was exactly how Crowley had expected him to react, if he was being honest. "Why would you ask me that? You had to have known that I'd protest when you decided to ask." 

"I did," Crowley agreed. "But I thought I'd try anyway." 

"Why not someone else? Anathema, for instance. Or maybe The Them, I'm sure they'd love this idiotic idea." Aziraphale said, nerves seeping into his voice.

"Anathema's got detention with Shadwell tonight, and I don't want to risk the kids getting expelled," Crowley explained, more patient than he thought he'd ever been before. "And because I want you to come." 

Aziraphale looked a bit started at that. "Me? Why me?" 

"Maybe I just wanna have a little adventure with my best friend." Crowley shrugged. 

"Best friend?" Aziraphale said softly, his eyes wide and his cheeks going a bit pink. 

"Course," Crowley said simply. He didn't really see why that was the part Aziraphale was focusing on, but he wasn't going to question it. "Why wouldn't you be? Now come on, angel, please. I want you to come." 

Aziraphale looked like he was having a mini war within his own head, his cheeks getting even redder with Crowley's comments, before eventually he sighed and looked back up at Crowley. "Oh, alright. But if I get in trouble for this I'm never speaking to you again." 

"Fuck yeah!" Crowley cheered, tossing an arm over Aziraphale's shoulders. He didn't know what compelled him to do it, but he did, and he didn't pull his arm away as he lead Aziraphale down to the great hall. The recklessness of their adventure was making him braver, and he was gonna take that, especially if it let him get closer to Aziraphale. The threat he'd given him was empty, the same one he'd used multiple times before, but Crowley didn't call him out on it. "Come on, let's talk about how we're gonna do this." 

Which is how Crowley found himself hiding outside of the hufflepuff common room long after curfew, his back against a wall so nobody could come up behind him as he watched the door and waited for Aziraphale. He was late, they'd had a very specific time they were going to meet in the hallway and sneak down to the Quidditch pitch, but that time had been almost fifteen minutes ago and Aziraphale drill wasn't there. For a moment Crowley let himself entertain the idea that Aziraphale may have opted out entirely, left him to do this on his own, and he almost left before he saw the door open and Aziraphale very slowly creep out. He closed the door incredibly softly behind him before turning around, his eyes meeting Crowley's in the dark, and he nodded. 

Crowley moved away from the wall, stepping out into the hall, and he grinned at Aziraphale. "Hey, angel." 

"Sorry I took so long, my dear, there were still some people in the common room when I was supposed to leave." Aziraphale apologized.

"No big deal," Crowley shrugged, even though it had been a rather big deal to him specifically and he'd spent a good five minutes convincing himself that he'd backed out. Aziraphale didn't need to know that. "Ready to go?"

Aziraphale just huffed. "I still think this is a horrible idea." 

"Yet you're here." Crowley pointed out, and the smile that crossed Aziraphale's face was so quick Crowley almost missed it. 

"Yet I'm here." He agreed, and the two of them crept quickly but carefully down the hall, checking around corners and keeping an eye out to make sure that nobody else was coming. 

The plan was simple. They were going to sneak down to the Quidditch pitch, see just what was going on, and then sneak back up to bed and discuss it with the rest of them over breakfast the next morning. It was easy, effective, and incredibly easy to mess up. Despite the fact that he'd been the one to come up with the plan, Crowley still had some doubts about what they were doing. What if there wasn't anything there that actually helped him? What if they got caught and Aziraphale ended up in trouble? He almost felt guilty for asking the boy to accompany him on this stupid plan, but he really hadn't been lying when he said he wanted him to come. He liked spending time with Aziraphale, he really did, and apparently that outweighed the threat of getting the boy into trouble. 

"Why is it so cold out here?" Crowley huffed, pulling his flannel closer around his body. He hadn't worn a jacket, which was proving to be a very stupid idea, but the weather had been exceptionally good all day and for it to suddenly be so cold out made little sense. 

"Because you're always cold." Aziraphale said quietly, looking incredibly unbothered by the sudden drop in temperature, and, yeah, that made sense, but Crowley didn't want it to so he just huffed and they continued on their way. 

The closer they got to the Quidditch pitch though, the colder the air around them seemed to get, and Aziraphale quickly started to look unnerved by it. It wasn't cold enough to be freezing, not even cold enough to be worrying really, but it was cold enough to be noticeable, and enough for it to be odd. The two of them looked at each other, both incredibly curious about what exactly was going on, and soon they found themselves face to face with the Quidditch pitch. There was a giant tent magically suspended around the entire area, covered from all four sides and the top. Aziraphale looked over at him, and Crowley could see the curiosity quickly winning out over the nerves he'd had before. Crowley grinned. 

He walked very slowly over towards the tent, careful to keep out of the light the lanterns lit up around it casted down onto the grass. This plan only worked because of how dark it was outside, and stepping directly into the light was going to do them no favours. The cold felt like it was seeping into his body once he finally made it over to the tent, and he turned around to beckon Aziraphale over, smiling a little to himself when he saw that he was already on his way. He crouched down next to Crowley, leaning close to him so they wouldn't have to open the tent as much. His breath was hot against his neck, and Crowley shivered, temporarily distracted from the task at hand, before he shook himself out of it and turned back to the tent. 

The fact that it was so easy to move the fabric of a tent concealing a highly important and possibly dangerous part of such a big tournament seemed like incredibly poor planning on the part of those in charge, but Crowley internally thanked them anyway when he managed to move it enough to be able to look inside. Aziraphale leaned over, his chin almost resting on Crowley's shoulder, and both of them froze. Crowley's breath caught, but this time it wasn't from the close proximity to his friend. 

"Dementors?" Crowley found himself asking nobody in particular as he watched the shadowy figure float around the pitch, his heart pounding in his chest. "Are they insane?" 

"I don't know, but we can discuss it when we get back. Let's go." Aziraphale said quickly, grabbing Crowley's arm and pulling. He pulled harder when he didn't move the first time, his eyes still fixed on the dementor, and Crowley got the hint and followed him, the two basically jogging towards the school. 

They slowed down as they approached the school, the air around them warming again, and were back at their previous pace of slightly slower than normal by the time they stepped through the front door. They didn't have much further to go, just back to their common rooms, but Crowley stopped dead in his tracks as they approached a hall. There was a light at the other side of it, coming around the corner rather quickly. 

"Shit." He hissed, looking around quickly for a place to hide, and he could have cried with relief when he spotted a door he knew for a fact opened into a broom closet. He grabbed Aziraphale's hand, shushing him violently when he went to protest, and opened the door, pushing the other boy in before stepping in himself and closing the door quickly and quietly behind him. 

Aziraphale's face was inches away from his when he turned to grin at him, and it took Crowley a moment to register how tight the space they'd squeezed themselves into was before he blushed a bit, though if it was ever brought up again he would blame it on the chill from outside that hadn't quite faded yet. It was a pathetic lie even in his own head. Aziraphale's breath ghosted across his face, his eyes scanning Crowley's rapidly, and Crowley realized what this must look like if he hadn't noticed the light at the other end of the hall as well. He didn't know what compelled him to do it, but when Aziraphale opened his mouth to ask what was going on, Crowley placed his hand over it, putting a finger to his own lips and mouthing listen before pointing to the door behind him. 

Sure enough, whoever had been in the hall was closer now, their footsteps echoing out unnaturally loudly in the stone space. Aziraphale's eyes went a little wide, his breath stuttering against Crowley's hand, and Crowley tried exceptionally hard to focus on anything but the fact that almost their entire bodies were pressed together. He didn't want to think about the fact that his shirt had risen up a bit and he could feel the softness of Aziraphale's sweater against the skin of his hip, or that he could feel his breath on his skin, or how soft his hair felt where it kept bumping into his neck. This wasn't exactly a comfortable space to be in, the doorknob was jammed into his back and his wand was pressing uncomfortably into his leg, so he tried to focus on that instead, and soon the sound of footsteps had moved on and left the hall entirely. 

He slowly removed his hand from Aziraphale's mouth, looking him in the eye as he carefully reached around to open the door again. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, and for a moment he wondered how he'd managed to get it closed in the first place, but he got it open soon enough and probably would have fallen out into the hall from the sudden lack of stability at his back of Aziraphale hadn't noticed him losing his balance and grabbed his waist to steady him. Crowley froze, which caused Aziraphale to freeze, his hand still on Crowley, and they were silent for a moment before he seemed to realize what he was doing and pulled his hand away, blushing furiously. 

Crowley took a few steps back, coughing awkwardly as Aziraphale stepped out too and closed the closet door behind him. "Well, I uh. Uh, goodnight, angel." 

"Goodnight, my dear." Aziraphale nodded, and the two went their separate ways quickly. Crowley was still blushing intensely when he stepped back into the deserted common room, and if he decided to hug his cat and try not to scream as he went to bed that night, well, that was his business and nobody elses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo sorry this took so long to get up but this was a hefty chapter and it took me a little bit to get done. What do we think? How are we feeling? A lot happened in this chapter, and I wanna know your thoughts on it. I did extensive wand research on the official harry potter wiki to figure out what their wands were gonna be, so if you care at all about that shit hmu so I can tell you all about why I chose what I chose. 
> 
> Side note, do any of y'all like the maze runner? Cause I just got really into it again for the first time in years and I have a fic idea that I wanna write for it, so let me know if you might wanna read that if I were to write it.
> 
> Why was Anathema in detention? Is Crowley ever gonna get his shit together and ask Aziraphale out? Will Gabriel always be a piece of shit? Let me know your thoughts, questions, concerns, and theories in the comments, I love to read them and they're the only joy I have in life.

**Author's Note:**

> Am I really writing a Good Omens Harry Potter au? The answer is yes, of course I am.


End file.
